The house of God refuses to grant me refuge and my demons will not have me.
How did I get to this place – in front of an alter with nothing to pray for? Scraped knees don’t make for good posture. With no evils to be exorcised, what I am left with is just bloody limbs and a hollow hope.
These halls of prayer grant me no solace. Curved ceilings and the stained glass only exist as reminders of the old.
I thought it better to seek refuge in the company of those who can no longer judge me. For graves don’t talk and the dead don’t hold accountable the living for their untold woes.
Like the death of a silent love. A love that lays quiet under an unmarked stone. A sin, no God could forgive and a deed no Devil could condone.
©Romancing Life, 2017