I’m reading a book about communists
(poet’s disclaimer: I am not a communist,
though I’m not sure if it says more

about me or our society that I feel
I must disclaim; I don’t dislike 
communists, and in fact, I could almost

be one if push came to shove,
but I’m not, you see, just a plain
old run-of-the-mill Democrat

and proud of it, though I have 
good friends who are conservative
Republicans, and they are, generally,

quite lovely people) and in this book
so many of the people profiled
speak about THE MOMENT,

the moment when they saw
clearly and heard the clarion 
call of the ideal and felt 

connected to those who also
believed, and it was beautiful,
and it was life-changing, and

they never forgot it, and nothing
since has ever come close,
and I thought how very much like

religion it sounded, like a 
Damascus road experience, 
blinded by the light and all,

and then I thought about today
and how we’ve all become
evangelists for something, and I’m 

not saying that we shouldn’t stick
to our convictions, but maybe,
just maybe we could consider

how fully we ate of the
flesh and drank from the cup
of our personal gospel. 

© 2020 Deb Moore,  All Rights Reserved