We sung hymns in assembly
but we weren’t a Christian school.
There was a church down the road
but it was too modern, too sterile
and even though I knew the girl
whose father lead the services there,
we never talked about faith
or the afterlife;
unless it was a lesson on Hinduism
and we pondered what we’d most like
to be reincarnated as.
I always chose an ant for the strength
or a cat for the naps.
I did go to church though;
a community centre
masquerading as a house of God
with plastic chairs for pews
and a projector just like the one in school
for the hymns.
I always stood at the back;
my weekend guilty pleasure
where I attended worship
to wave flags and mouth silently
yet pay no homage to anyone up above.
The flags varied in sizes:
one gold and medium,
one large and sparkly green,
and small ones for one pair of hands
instead of the combined effort of two
small children, who would have happily
instead of attending Sunday school.
© Kristiana Reed 2019