Sunday Masquerade

A young child's struggles of the life she sees within the church compared to life outside of church walls...

Red shag carpets 

Pleather back pews 

Backsides and elbows 

Over muted strains from the organ

I swing my feet 

Drum my fingers 

Shift my weight in the seat next to Momma

How many “Amens”

How many “Praise the Lords”

How many shushings do I have to get 

Until this is done 

And I can go home to my dolls?

Ugh…I have to sit still

I have to be quiet 

After all it’s the house of God

The house of God demands respect 

Respect? Yeah, that’s a noble idea..

Though I don’t see much of it 

Outside these drafty walls 

It’s like a masquerade party

Everyone puts on a face that looks nothing like their own 

And when the party’s over 

The faces go “bye-bye” 

And what’s worn until the next masquerade leaves much to be desired

I just want to go home to my dolls 

Where everything makes sense 

And I am free to move and squirm and wiggle 

Without feeling like I’m disappointing God