"Welcome"
An old man hands her a bulletin
Does he know?
Does he know he just welcomed a gay into his church?
What if he did?
Would he take it back?
Kick her out?
Yell at her?
Tell her she's a sinner?
No.
This old man doesn't know.
He doesn't know that yet another secret gay just walked into his church.
Another parishioner sits in the pews ostracized
Listening to the Pastor at the pulpit
Slowly dying inside knowing she doesn't fit in,
Knowing this church doesn't accept her orientation, the love of her life.
No.
This man doesn't know.
She takes the bulletin, feigns a smile, and walks into the church.
She finds a seat in the
Have you ever been kept awake by the choices you didn't make?
Did they pull your eyes open, just as your mind began
Folding the day into soft squares to tuck under your pillow?
It's gone 3 a.m., but my pen keeps scratching on this yellow sticky note
And spilling out the worries that are overcrowding my head.
My weary hopes have climbed the stairs, sliding hands along the banister,
But all these steps seem to have led me nowhere.
I blink into the darkness, where all the familiar places become unknown.
The darkness: a lack of clarity.
Almost 4 a.m. I'll sleep now; put my pen to rest:
I'll dream of choices made.