priest - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
The priest wore a robe that was something like a long sleeved black dress with black buttons from the neck right down to almost the hemline, where the shiny toes of black boots were just visible poking out. Yet somehow it was still manly and the black of the robe looked sharp and crisp contrasted with the white of the dog-collar. Around his waist was tied a wide black tasseled sash and from his neck hung a gold cross as big as my pinky
He was everything you'd want a priest to be. He was humble and respectful, he was devout to his faith and set a good example to his flock. He had an even temperament and the kind of warm voice it's easy to get lost in. He was honest but he still had tact. He never judged harshly and always showed you the right way back to God's path and love. He was strong and resilient, a rock in the troubled times of his parish. He could shine light where there was despair and mend the hearts of the broken. His concern for each and everyone was genuine and he always took the trouble to ask how you and your family were whenever you met. From the pulpit he radiated all that was good and holy about the love of Jesus. His sermons were uplifting and inspirational.
Maddie was used to Father Devon in his ceremonial vestments in Sunday mass. So when she went to the youth church group she walked right past him. He sat there, perched on the end of the pew in jeans and a Metallica t-shirt. When she spotted him she jumped, then eyed him suspiciously. She didn't think a proper pious, devout priest would wear such a thing. She'd be sure to tell her mama.
I broke down and dropped to my knees,
The last breath had been pulled from my lungs.
Father, he reached for the cheeks and spoke,
“Find your faith, speak with no man’s tongues.”
Black traces of sin began to pour from my mouth,
And the devil stood to applaud.
Father stepped back in fear,
“Look within yourself to find God.”
But there is no God here,
Only a lost, broken soul.
A place where demons raise their young,
A place where shatters of glass are added to the coal.
But yet you tell me to look deep down here,
The place that harbors the secrets that never left my lips,
The place where my greatest of judgement trips.
The place that provides the solution my mind sips.
Don’t tell me to find my faith within,
Because the hell inside doesn’t allow a god.
What good is it to listen to myself,
When all the voices inside are leading me to the spinning rod.
So Father, forgive me when I say,
That you have done no good.
I think when I told you I was dying,
You simply misunderstood.
There is no light hiding in the darkness of these shadows,
The pieces inside don’t all fit.
You can’t just raise your hands and say a prayer,
Because upon entering the Holy Spirit got the faith scared out of it.
I called to you in need of a miracle,
And you looked at me with pity.
You turned from my cry,
As if I hadn’t tried everything already.
Father, look with your eyes at the worst of failures,
See what happens when you let the suppressed come out to play.
Do you not understand what happens when you’re four months overdue,
And the devil tells you it’s time to pay.
But look no more,
You have absolutely no reason to cry.
Father, I have only one request;
When the next scream calls your name,
Promise to atleast try.