Dear Church
Dear Church, You were my home. The place I learned to walk and talk The place I Learned your language, your mannerisms The way you feel, the way you smell The place I Was at home The place I Was safe, was fine Until Until I wasn’t, Because I wasn’t just comfortable with you I was devout. I wasn’t just at home with you I was entranced by you. And somewhere along the way The language, the mannerisms, The way you feel, the way you smell Became a prison And not a home. You had room for the parts of me That knew the language, the mannerisms The way to feel, the way to smell But when other parts began to spill out… Lines were drawn And there were parts of me… important parts That were on the wrong side Parts of me I’d kept So repressed that I didn’t even believe I had them Parts of me that I Hated so much, they Quietly hid themselves, until My body grew tired of Stunting my growth So I could fit, so I could belong.