Creative Space

Penny Goes to Church on Sunday

Show me a story without loss
and one which deals with pride without the cautiousness
of shame. 

Rich with poverty 
she could not recall her life 
before high school.

On Sundays the church bells
registered the pain of the sinners,
those blameless children, 
fondled by cherish leaders,
they could not evade the punishment they proposed.

In therapy,
unfolding the secret of the past,
her origami heart 
knows all that what 
the unavailability of words
forged by cognitive dissonance,
locked her gaze in the distance.

Still she could hear 
the voice of a soothing witness,
from their limbic hide 
her tears escaped…

This poem has been previously published in Attachment-New Directions, 15(2) (2021) Reprinted with the kind permission of Phoenix Publishing House.