Sunday mornings are empty now
in chasing adulthood, in growing older
in every intonation, I wonder
    what it would be like to open my mouth
and sing praise too
    how the holy spirit would finally fill
my body like breath
    when I would finally face my childlike faith

because it didn’t take long
for the pastor to say that god planned for the devil
to take me in my sorrow

between the pews, sermon echoing off the walls
if I was quiet, I could fill Sundays again