the weight of a thousand pews and the statues that sit on them lifted projectors, tracks, tithing envelopes, hymnals, little pencils, and insincere handshakes dissolve all away we were six years old with sins eating crackers and coloring Noah’s ark getting used to our cages but guilty of wanting to ride bikes in the 10 am sun with strawberry popsicles, scratched up knees training wheels rattling their way down the streets while friends play tag, find turtle eggs, climb trees, and skip rope now we can make up for those days spent feeling ashamed of our bodies and our questions
our ideas our gold and statues want to be a part of it all something inconclusive with hopes carving stone into delicate figurines tokens of the things we’ve created and the ideas we’ve resisted and now we whittle it all away each time I recognize the source of restrictive thought I’ll whittle it all away away, we whittle it all away and now we’ve whittled it all away