Sermon Making

Fall Poetry Contest - Top Ten Finalist
Christopher Grosso

First, the sermon cannot be
a stagnant pond, too still for the even
the stagiest teetotaler to tolerate.

But don’t make waves either. Just hang
a rope swing inviting enough to
skip work to try. Now, your words
should not become manufactured steel
but be blacksmith original, fitted per request,
each tune tuned for the tone-deaf ear.

Bring your saber, but only as a prop.
Place it gently before you. No need
to rattle it, as the import is tariff enough.

Then finger-paint in the air while speaking,
keeping the colors hot. Do not be afraid
to point at the flock, letting them know

they are both counted and accountable.
Most importantly, hold out your hands
in blessing, saying, “Can you see what

I am offering you? Just my empty,
wanting hands, reaching out, waiting
to squeeze your doubt into diamonds.”