He pressed his lips to the cool tile, hands flat on the dirt of patrons past. It was dark, dark as the woods in the dead of winter where he’d hack at black ice to melt for water. Pa couldn’t do that anymore, not since last winter, but that was alright.
The organ wheezed, dusty breaths slapping bare pine beams. The church wasn’t much to look at by city standards, but it was theirs, hewn from the land and snow and ice. It clung to this place obstinately, like the people whose hands had raised it, and they were proud, proud of this simple pine and iron.
What is a church? Catholic? I always wonder why so much people go to church every sunday. Why is it so important? Why are you obligate to pray here?
cMAY
Looming oak and tapered glass
rise above endless rows of
silence on silence.
Arms crossed and hands clasped,
in hopes that one day,
something will fill them.
Weird stucco walls and a grassy clearing for the kids to make adventures. I never really thought twice about going to Church at the time. In a way I miss it. A readymade community of friends and supporters who take an interest in your life and your journey. How would they react if they knew I was gay?
I saw her every week at church. Always kept her head down, hands tucked into her pockets. I would see her lips move ever so slightly, mouthing the words to the hymns. And after communion, she would always be the first one out. I’d many times tried to follow her, but as soon as I walked out, she was always gone
Some weeks I will go to church, and then there are times that great periods go where I am absent. I do not worry because I find my church everyday outside in Nature.
I’ve never really experienced church in the way it should be experienced, I think. I tend towards bursting into flame upon the sight of it. There is so much focus on the sin of woman in my experience. I cannot be a sin. I refuse. No More.
Stephanie
The church was where I found tall skyscrapers. They seem old but they are like a modern city as they are so many diverse people, most of them won’t admit they’re diverse, but then again most of them are liars.
Kelsey
church bench varnish squeak. moist incense, columns of blood red candles and pricks of soft dancing light, organ humming always below the high high arches.
When I go to church I try to think only about God. It is hard sometimes because there is so much that can distract you at Church, crying children, friends, family, parents of students and much more.
Kelly
It’s a house of god, and whether or not he chooses to exist, we exist.
Ciemna wieża, chyliła się lekko na jedną stronę. Czarny kruk posępnie obserwował wchodzących. Jeden z nich kulał nieco. Kruk sfrunął z wieży, wylądował na jego ramieniu. Usłyszałem gardłowy rechot.
Jaśko
I opened the heavy wooden church doors, took a tentative step inside, and let the door fall shut behind me. As the door swung back to its primeval closed position, it sucked in a gust of warm air and expelled it outside, leaving behind a vacuum. All was still. So still, in fact, that I could hear the pounding of my heart in my ears. Each step I took echoed around the cavernous, ornate space, bringing me closer to some unforeseen destiny.
Zoe
i saw church yesterday. so this is another take. church was so boring to me as a child and still today. i think that is when my adhd or add or a something or other came into full bloom. just moved to slowly for me
seeking salvation
guided by the sign
you will be embraced
forgiven your sins
from who cast the first stone
and yet, who embraces you
and leads you by hand
maybe the one who has most to hide
“Our Father, who art in heaven, holy be your name–”
It was a whisper in the empty hall, barely the ghost of a breath. No sound could be heard, not even his walking knees, not even his rustling clothes.
“–thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven.”
He shuddered, feeling the heat of light pushing down on his shoulders and the windows watching. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, prickling him.
“Give us today, our daily bread and forgive us our sins–” there was a choked sob, then hurried steps– “as we forgive those who sin against us.
“Do not bring us to the test, but deliver us from evil–”
He looked up to the face of the man delivered upon him. His body is tainted with whips and scars and faded paint, blown eyes teary with the lack of pupils.
He looked up, eyes equally blown and white, and sighed.
“Amen.”
Behind him, he heard a click and felt a light press to his head.
The place of mixed meanings. Sometimes holy, sometimes horrible. Heaven and hell, good and evil, black and white. It depends on the relation you have with it.
berksun doganer
nevre been to a church, neither desire to, tired of all these religion stuff, just wnat to live and have all the experiences this life has to offer.But at times we all need support from something not of this realm, i feel a desire to pay back all that has been given to me.
Hot evenings
Cold night
Cold morning
Midnight songs and
Preaching choirs
Sway to to fro
Waiting for an end
To heaven
Or to hell
Hannah
I remember having to go and stare down the pastor of my church at 13 and tell him exactly why I wasn’t getting confirmed. But it was a step towards being honest with others so better to be honest with myself. Didn’t get much further than that but hey. Its a process. So much for faith eh?
All the kings horses and all the kings men scurried to see what the commotion was. The wind puckered its lips on Edward’s nape as he approached the steps of the Church, knowing not whether to expect blood or rice.
Nicholas Guastella
Steeples and spires and priests and witches and mothers and sons and absent fathers hanging in the air, heavier for their absence and overgrown bushes, unkempt gardens, something slipping all the time, something going and gone
S
The church had never been a place of peace for her but one of obligation, of habit. From the first Sunday she spent as their ward to the last, she found herself there, sitting in the same pew, nearly the same place, rising and falling as the shifting crowds demanded. Until the first Sunday after her grandmother passed away came and, instead of finding herself in her best clothes, she found herself in her pjs, slumped far too comfortably on the couch to even think about moving.
I don’t want to be here. Every week my dad drags us here. everyone acts like we are so privileged to be here. I hate it. its controlling. It stifles me. Buries who I am. My hopes and wants and dreams. Tells me the things that are me are wrong. But they are wrong. I
Ashley
I go to church everyday Sunday, yet my best friend still does not consider me a real christian. She says that since I go work and teach younger kids about His word instead of sitting in a crowed room with a bunch of strangers singing stupid songs and participating in group prayers I don’t care about God. That’s such a ridiculous condescending thing to say I can’t even describe how much it bothers me.
maddy wylie
I think back to the time when I use to go to church. Why did I go? Was it due to my insatiable desire to learn more about God? No, most likely I went for social benefits. Being involved in most organization gives you a sense of belonging and satisfaction. To be honest, I experienced God and Jesus, but that wasn’t my initial thought when I would think about Church. It was simply a byproduct of my selfish desire to socialize with my peers. We would gossip, enjoy the satisfaction of leaving others out, and discuss love prospect, but once we entered the chapel the curtain fell on those thoughts. We hid it so well and we were such pretenders. Praising an all-seeing, all-knowing being within chapel grounds and dismissing the teaching immediately after we left those sacred grounds. I was and still am an arrogant, ignorant, immature child, who doesn’t know anything about anything.
He pressed his lips to the cool tile, hands flat on the dirt of patrons past. It was dark, dark as the woods in the dead of winter where he’d hack at black ice to melt for water. Pa couldn’t do that anymore, not since last winter, but that was alright.
The organ wheezed, dusty breaths slapping bare pine beams. The church wasn’t much to look at by city standards, but it was theirs, hewn from the land and snow and ice. It clung to this place obstinately, like the people whose hands had raised it, and they were proud, proud of this simple pine and iron.
This was their place.
What is a church? Catholic? I always wonder why so much people go to church every sunday. Why is it so important? Why are you obligate to pray here?
Looming oak and tapered glass
rise above endless rows of
silence on silence.
Arms crossed and hands clasped,
in hopes that one day,
something will fill them.
Weird stucco walls and a grassy clearing for the kids to make adventures. I never really thought twice about going to Church at the time. In a way I miss it. A readymade community of friends and supporters who take an interest in your life and your journey. How would they react if they knew I was gay?
I saw her every week at church. Always kept her head down, hands tucked into her pockets. I would see her lips move ever so slightly, mouthing the words to the hymns. And after communion, she would always be the first one out. I’d many times tried to follow her, but as soon as I walked out, she was always gone
PEACEFUL
Some weeks I will go to church, and then there are times that great periods go where I am absent. I do not worry because I find my church everyday outside in Nature.
I’ve never really experienced church in the way it should be experienced, I think. I tend towards bursting into flame upon the sight of it. There is so much focus on the sin of woman in my experience. I cannot be a sin. I refuse. No More.
The church was where I found tall skyscrapers. They seem old but they are like a modern city as they are so many diverse people, most of them won’t admit they’re diverse, but then again most of them are liars.
church bench varnish squeak. moist incense, columns of blood red candles and pricks of soft dancing light, organ humming always below the high high arches.
When I go to church I try to think only about God. It is hard sometimes because there is so much that can distract you at Church, crying children, friends, family, parents of students and much more.
It’s a house of god, and whether or not he chooses to exist, we exist.
Ciemna wieża, chyliła się lekko na jedną stronę. Czarny kruk posępnie obserwował wchodzących. Jeden z nich kulał nieco. Kruk sfrunął z wieży, wylądował na jego ramieniu. Usłyszałem gardłowy rechot.
I opened the heavy wooden church doors, took a tentative step inside, and let the door fall shut behind me. As the door swung back to its primeval closed position, it sucked in a gust of warm air and expelled it outside, leaving behind a vacuum. All was still. So still, in fact, that I could hear the pounding of my heart in my ears. Each step I took echoed around the cavernous, ornate space, bringing me closer to some unforeseen destiny.
i saw church yesterday. so this is another take. church was so boring to me as a child and still today. i think that is when my adhd or add or a something or other came into full bloom. just moved to slowly for me
“Dress up, we’re going to the church.”
My sisters looked up from their iPads and scurried, poking each other and laughing.
“Go take a bath first, I’ll finish this up.” I told them and forgot about it.
An hour later, they emerged, all colourful tank tops and skimpy shorts. They drowned themselves in their iPads again.
I sighed, then grabbed my towel.
seeking salvation
guided by the sign
you will be embraced
forgiven your sins
from who cast the first stone
and yet, who embraces you
and leads you by hand
maybe the one who has most to hide
“Our Father, who art in heaven, holy be your name–”
It was a whisper in the empty hall, barely the ghost of a breath. No sound could be heard, not even his walking knees, not even his rustling clothes.
“–thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven.”
He shuddered, feeling the heat of light pushing down on his shoulders and the windows watching. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, prickling him.
“Give us today, our daily bread and forgive us our sins–” there was a choked sob, then hurried steps– “as we forgive those who sin against us.
“Do not bring us to the test, but deliver us from evil–”
He looked up to the face of the man delivered upon him. His body is tainted with whips and scars and faded paint, blown eyes teary with the lack of pupils.
He looked up, eyes equally blown and white, and sighed.
“Amen.”
Behind him, he heard a click and felt a light press to his head.
He closed his eyes, slumped and sobbed.
“I bring you salvation.”
Then, nothing.
The place of mixed meanings. Sometimes holy, sometimes horrible. Heaven and hell, good and evil, black and white. It depends on the relation you have with it.
nevre been to a church, neither desire to, tired of all these religion stuff, just wnat to live and have all the experiences this life has to offer.But at times we all need support from something not of this realm, i feel a desire to pay back all that has been given to me.
My in-laws used to go to church every Sunday and they had a very positive attitude to life with many friends and a great community.
again with the church
I’m on a verge
Irony I disperse
for humility I don’t deserve
unconditional we say, its love
where do we go if not above
here, laterally we serve
oh what a nerve
The church smelled like a tomb—dirt, neglect, and an undercurrent of mold. He sneezed.
The noise bounced off the walls, hiding the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps.
Hot evenings
Cold night
Cold morning
Midnight songs and
Preaching choirs
Sway to to fro
Waiting for an end
To heaven
Or to hell
I remember having to go and stare down the pastor of my church at 13 and tell him exactly why I wasn’t getting confirmed. But it was a step towards being honest with others so better to be honest with myself. Didn’t get much further than that but hey. Its a process. So much for faith eh?
All the kings horses and all the kings men scurried to see what the commotion was. The wind puckered its lips on Edward’s nape as he approached the steps of the Church, knowing not whether to expect blood or rice.
Steeples and spires and priests and witches and mothers and sons and absent fathers hanging in the air, heavier for their absence and overgrown bushes, unkempt gardens, something slipping all the time, something going and gone
The church had never been a place of peace for her but one of obligation, of habit. From the first Sunday she spent as their ward to the last, she found herself there, sitting in the same pew, nearly the same place, rising and falling as the shifting crowds demanded. Until the first Sunday after her grandmother passed away came and, instead of finding herself in her best clothes, she found herself in her pjs, slumped far too comfortably on the couch to even think about moving.
I don’t want to be here. Every week my dad drags us here. everyone acts like we are so privileged to be here. I hate it. its controlling. It stifles me. Buries who I am. My hopes and wants and dreams. Tells me the things that are me are wrong. But they are wrong. I
I go to church everyday Sunday, yet my best friend still does not consider me a real christian. She says that since I go work and teach younger kids about His word instead of sitting in a crowed room with a bunch of strangers singing stupid songs and participating in group prayers I don’t care about God. That’s such a ridiculous condescending thing to say I can’t even describe how much it bothers me.
I think back to the time when I use to go to church. Why did I go? Was it due to my insatiable desire to learn more about God? No, most likely I went for social benefits. Being involved in most organization gives you a sense of belonging and satisfaction. To be honest, I experienced God and Jesus, but that wasn’t my initial thought when I would think about Church. It was simply a byproduct of my selfish desire to socialize with my peers. We would gossip, enjoy the satisfaction of leaving others out, and discuss love prospect, but once we entered the chapel the curtain fell on those thoughts. We hid it so well and we were such pretenders. Praising an all-seeing, all-knowing being within chapel grounds and dismissing the teaching immediately after we left those sacred grounds. I was and still am an arrogant, ignorant, immature child, who doesn’t know anything about anything.
I don’t attend anymore, but hopefully I will.