Benediction

By Sydney Fowler 

Staleness collects in the air,
heated by late morning sun
through stained glass windows.
The pastor cracks an innocent joke.
The sanctuary echos with empty chuckles.

Rough wine carpet lines the pew,
scratching bare legs under a Sunday dress.
The program lists the hymns for the day.
Pencil scribbles count past lines
and doodles attempt to cure boredom.

“Let us bow our heads and pray.”
Hands fumble together,
eyes snap shut tight enough for white
to swirl on the back of eyelids,
pretending to be angels.

A suffocating silence fogs
thoughts trying to reach Him.
Safe prayers of forgiveness,
protection, and guidance warp
into taboo questions of conviction,
insecurity, and doubt.
Muttering whispers send a jolt
through nerves, until the source
is revealed to be a wrinkling, balding man.

Churning emotions retreat
and leave behind a sickening emptiness.
“Amen.”
A piano that ends the service begins to play.
Amen.