Little House of God

Do you remember
The silent church in Luxembourg?
When we escaped the intense heat of the day,
And sat lazily on the hard, wooden benches?
The sun streaming through the windows that were once stained glass?
The grand organ ceased to play its melodious music.

For hours, we sat in that little house of God.
We reminisced about our last two years together,
Our conversation flowed effortlessly.
It was here, in this plain, white church, that I knew,
You were my best friend,
The one person who could understand me more than anyone.

It was here where we talked about us.
Your burdens that weigh upon you like elephants,
My dysfunctional but somehow functional family,
Our innocent childhoods, now full of nostalgia,
Even though our lives were substantially different, here we are,

After the little, old ladies, who’s spots we were sitting in,
Started filing in for evening mass,
We left the modest church behind us.
The church may be just a memory,
But I have been forever changed,
By the conversation that flowed so effortlessly.

Around you, I am not afraid
To sing, to dance, or to even be myself.
And it is because of you I want to become a better person.
To be someone as gentle as a lamb
And as patient as a parent of a small child.
Because maybe one day, I’ll be able to do the same for someone else.