Churchgoing

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

stayed waving

instead of attending Sunday school.

 


 

© Kristiana Reed 2019

3 thoughts on “Churchgoing

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