God of Your Monday

This is a Sestina I wrote a few days ago. (And for those who don’t know, a Sestina is a poem that does not have rhythm or rhyme – the pattern is in the last word of every line. )

Your Sunday’s over; you’re looking forward to Monday

So you can take off your mask

Go your own selfish way

And stop pretending that you’re holy.

I know you don’t think much of Me;

You take My name in vain when the preacher’s not around.


Do you think I’m not around

On Monday?

Do you think you don’t need Me?

Do you think I’m pleased by your Sunday mask?

I hear you call filth holy.

I can see you’ve forgotten that I’m THE WAY.


Admit it – you’re running away from Me.

You want to go your selfish way.

You’d rather do your thing, and wear your mask

Whenever the preacher’s around.

You don’t want to surrender your Monday;

You’re afraid to let me make you holy.


I am holy –

Have you forgotten you can trust Me?

I’m still here on Monday,

Watching you go your way

And pretend that I’m not around.

I can see through your mask.


My child, put down that mask.

Let Me make you holy.

Why deny that I’m always around?

Trust Me,

And come My way

Even on Monday.


Child, come near Me!

There is a better way

If only you will let Me be the God of your Monday.

Categories: Poetry | Leave a comment

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