Park Bench

Leaves roar in the wind,
Bustling like excited children.
The gentle flow of the lily pond
And the chorus of nearby birds.
The sun broken up and shining through the woods
Like stained glass in a cathedral.
Like Jesus in the morning.

Please, I pray.
Please, this forever.

The church is empty.
I came to confess.
From my vacant pew,
I will not be overheard.
I will speak to the pebbles.
Pray that they will forgive me.

My blood hums in my veins.
The son catches my eye.
Oh, I pray. It is not you, Jesus,
But your father that I fear.

He may have forgiven me.
How else could I be here?
Alone in a cathedral,
The birds singing hymns with the train,
The light washing over me.

A second chance, it seems,
Again and again and again.

If, to be forgiven,
I must come to this church alone,
Then I will be here every
Sunday morning,
In my own aged pew,
Singing along with the birds
And the train,
Confessing my sins and
Praying for another
Sunday morning
Just like this.