It’s easy, said the Sisters of St. John’s in 1968:
Obey, don’t question.
Follow your conscience:
Right feels right.
Wrong feels wrong.
Which left no room for my questions:
Why can boys be crossing guards
with Dayglo vests, orange helmets,
and red STOP signs,
but girls can’t?
Why do boys’ pants nicely conceal
the private parts
that girls’ skirts so easily reveal?
Why is masturbation wrong
when it feels right?
If The Bible is the one true word,
why are there other Holy Books?
If we celebrate Christ’s birthday on December 25th,
but don’t really know when he was born,
what else have we gotten wrong?
Poem previously published in print: Touchstones (PSNH), Fall/Winter 2021
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