in seeking the afterlife

there is a need to push

the spires

upward,

to build high and hard

the steeples,

making

room

for darkness in the rafters,

but light too

through

mottled panes of glass,

stained in

greens, and reds,

ambers.

redemptive blue.

ring the bells too,

let God know we're here,

that we believe in you.

we covet the smoke and mirrors

of the church,

the fear of it.

beating our fists 

to our chests, kneeling blindly

in faith.

the fire and brimstone

message.

the holy rags of gold,

the enormous crucifix.

we want salvation,

we want heaven 

and the sweet afterlife, but

without the pain,

the price of

submission, of fasting,

of denial

of all the sinful

pleasures that come with

this thorn filled life,

despite so many roses.