Thoughts in Holy Worship

I am weary of right words.
Give me a liberated tongue
that I may speak my words.

There is an itch in my mind
they cannot scratch –
a tear chokes my throat
so that I gag on undigested song.

I tremble in thy holy presence
quivering in my groin,
alive, tongue dumb and heart bruised -
quivering in the grip of shame
for not living the right words.

I am weary of right words
that slay the giant
before he breaks his chains!