faithfully unfaithful

church is the most consistent variable in my life. three houses and fifteen years
it took me to realize. in fifteen years i’ve learned who killed abel but not why i should see god in blooming daffodils.

is home a steeple? i do love stained glass sunlight & silver cups, but. i used to believe god played the organ, and there are decade-old drawings fingered into velvet pews half a country away, but.

but even after seven hundred eighty-nine sundays, why must i still chew the inside of my cheeks, on longer possessing the patience to love, hate, and pray on command, and lacking the talent to lie?

what is a home if you still question its foundation?

is home predisposed, or chosen?

...

what is a home if you don’t question its foundation?

…

i’ve been forgetting to count myself in groups lately. i hope god doesn’t have the same tendency.