It’s been awhile since I’ve gone to church, and I’ve been desperate. It’s been even longer since I’ve prayed, and I feel so strong in debt. I can’t quite figure out who I owe. I guess I’ve never been much of a follower. And if I try to, I follow my own path because my heart’s a broken compass..

which led me straight to you.

Are you the north star? Because I can hear freedom in your voice and taste Heaven off your breath.

Perhaps you are gravity, pulling the fine line between heart and soul together again. I don’t need either one floating away anymore.

Maybe you are an angel, to come and go.. but obedience is my woe and I would try and make you stay. Would that make me human?

Maybe you are the sea, and if so, I’d love to be the sun, kissing you day and night against the horizon, rising and setting in your grace.

Well, sometimes I think you are Time.. the times when I’m the happiest, the time when I’m in love.

Wouldn’t that also make you life? My life.

Or maybe you are the light, and I am the darkness. Darkness is just the absence of light.. and I am the side of you that isn’t afraid of the night.

No, I think you are Church.

Your kindness welcomes all, and your beauty erases every mistake. Love is your religion, and you have no idea what hate is, to you, it’s just another four letter word like fuck or holy. Holy fuck, that was a good line. You are making a poet out of a fool.

A fool who has never not believed.. how grammatically negative does that sound when it’s an optimistic statement? I guess that’s how most people feel about church though.

But I have never been to a church where I actually fell in love with my faith until I met you. More churches should be more like you, maybe then I could make a believer out of my father.

Not only do I want to go to you on Sundays, but I want to be with you all the days of forever… well, maybe on Wednesdays you could come over to my place and we could sin together.

You can put those moments into the sacred text, and let people argue over mistranslations of what’s right and what’s wrong.. and I won’t give a holy fuck.

Translation of holy fuck: I four-letter word you.

I want you. I need you. I have you.

But my personal favourite.. I love you.

Expect me at church tomorrow, it’s been awhile, but I’m pretty sure I won’t ever leave again.

Trevi Fountain, Rome, Italy


10 thoughts on “31/3/2011

      1. J. E. Lattimer

        Fate, yes, that’s a good choice! Now that I have the question posed to me I’m finding it more difficult to decide on just one than I thought it would be… Home? Luck? Muse? One of those three, I think… Excluding profanities, of course!

        Liked by 1 person

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