Discrimination against disabled by church, Episcopal Church of Colorado, exclusion from the church, Fort Collins Episcopal Church, organist St. Luke's Fort Collins, religious hypocracy, St Luke's Episcopal
I wish to be singing alleluias rather than wanting to set fire to churches. I speak the truth. Mere blocks away a mocking bird priest stands in the shimmering of Pascal candles in his white vestments: He who stole my faith, he who stopped my voice He, member of the Anglican patriarchal succession holds forth and there are sheep with the silver hair the unchallenging decorum of the Goodly Episcopalian in the palm of his hand. Let us profile here: let us name the names of those who fail to think for themselves, the true sinners, The dark-faced Mestizo woman who stabbed me in the back with gossip, spilling my confidences like unshelled frijoles among the tepid women of the choir She, whose brake cables I would like to cut. Let us crucify the liars strip them of their Easter best and throw them on a pyre for hypocrites. The censor, she who spreads incense throughout the nave shall not be blamed. He who reads the Gospel held high over his head by acolytes is the One who came to me when I was ill like the serpent in Eden: Come back to us, we want you, your voice; forgiveness abounds in your old nest. I am here as is HE, the one of whom they speak as having risen on this day. She is to be blamed, who sits at the organ in the white cotta of sanctimonious look-at-me- soli dei gloria, I give you Bach And here is my choir, listen to the ascension of voices recounting redemption for all but on account of your past mistakes, although you sing like a meadowlark “We do not want you after all.” And according to the Gospel of a Living Woman the child in me wept, returning to the Gethsemane where she had been living, crouching down alone, hugging stone.