Slowly they rose from their knees,
heads hung wounded, hands holding
the dead wood of the pew in front.
The heavy man leading the service
read every possible sin from a book
and pointed towards the congregation
directing god about the gilded dome
to seek and punish those that had fallen.
A wicker basket in the shape of a nest
made its way from hand to hand
multiplying itself in green
like fish and loaves of bread.
Later that evening as I walked
through the woods I saw god
kneeling over a small bird
that had fallen from its nest
and I asked him if he had seen me
leave the service before it ended.
He kissed the bird, placed it back
in the nest and said: No, I did not see you.
I’ve never been to church.
DQ 12/24/08
