church-going has become one of those endeavors
during which I shut down half of my senses
just to be able to stay.
I take off my coat and I take off
my thinking abilities and attitudes too, it seems.
it’s a shame and a tragedy and a loss and it keeps
worsening; meanwhile, the world keeps bleeding.
what happens, when family tradition can no longer keep
me in those pews or Sunday habit or worldly fatigue or the desire
to dig into stunning stories or, perhaps even,
the longing to… belong?
excuses have left the playing field, once and for all.
…and no answers or gestures are anywhere to be seen.
now, it’s just us, out there, in the dark,
and many other angry people.
half of them, at least, being