Breeched 1982

This church is a borning
And it is a breech baby

This church is caught by claws
Of tiny, tight-fisted crabs
Who fancy themselves

This church is a borning
And it is a breech baby
Suffocating and straining
The midwife is detained

This church shelters frightened souls
And swaggerts

(I can hear the Spirit
The Spirit speaks soft and clear)

But I want to run away
After we pray
So I won’t have to say
How disappointing, this casual conversation
This breach in the wall
This crash and fall

This church is a borning
And it is a breech baby.