The Shells You Shed to Be Here

Cushioned pews  
Loose buttons on my skirt  
And my coat  
lying limp as we kneel on the wooden kneelers  
Hushed into boredom  
And prayer as well  
 
We played a game that year  
During the stations of the cross  
Trying to pass the time in between all the standing sitting standing  
Talking without talking  
Wondering when I would appreciate it all  
 
I don’t think I’ve ever told you a lot of this;  
 
I used to love the stain glass windows in Saint Lawrence church  
Counting the cement slabs  
And squinting at the light through the windows to form a kalaidascope like the one at my grandmothers;  
 
There we would dance like gypsies  
shoes too big for me and  
Foreign accents  
Silk scarves moving in and out as I threw myself accross the floor in a flare of passion  
She would go first  
I would go second  
Enter through the kitchen  
 
But there were other times too  
When she spoke of the nuns  
And when she gave me the prayer book that belonged to her as a little girl-  
It’s strange  
I don’t think I even read it once  
But I loved it simply because it was hers  
 
While part of me was busy singing holy songs part of me was singing tunes I made up  
Dizzy with thoughts of what would be and could not be at any moment  
Thinking and thinking of writing stories or digging or finding lady bugs;  
 
I lie here now  
Spirituality torn into pieces  
And I’m still stuck in the dream land of mine  
Almost as if I’m waiting for the past to tell me something  
In all its mystery  
 
And then I think  
 of all the people in the world  
in different places  
Washing the dishes at the same time  
Running and scrapping their knee at the same time  
Crying at the same time  
Question God at the same time  
Being born  
And dying  
And all of it  
Just tangled and tangled  
Until I can’t imagine it anymore without thinking  
Of hygrangias in first bloom  
In her backyard  
I guess I did used to have a favorite flower  
And so I would sing  
So much singing  
Of things I hadn’t experienced yet  
In the gazebo  
Among spiderwebs  
 
Yes I change and change  
But I always end up back here  
Don’t I