My body was reserved for only God,
and though it spasmed, pleading for release,
until I felt like some obstructed clod
in fear of my own flesh that wouldn’t cease,
I mortified that flesh with packs of ice,
supposedly for saving of my soul
from being caught within the grip of vice,
yet found that I was worshiping control.
But idols I’ve revered instead of God
have fooled me into thinking they were good,
so I have failed to see each was a fraud,
just like the ones of plastic or of wood.
Please pardon my idolatry mistakes:
O, Jesus, free me from revering fakes.
Mario A. Pita