stained glass

you visit
your church, well
it's not your
church exactly.
you barely
touch base on
the holy days.
but you want it
to be more,
to be something
than what it has
become. it's
a sleepwalk, an
ambien laced
kneel down
of prayer. they've
cleaned it up
so nicely. you
miss the blood
of Christ,
the fire and
brimstone, the
hot coals,
the vague smoke
and mirrors
of fear. it's
a drive thru
now, fast food,
quick and easy.
nobody gets hurt.
and the light
coming in through
the stained glass,
rarely gets out.