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
