"I Never Saw god in Church" by Meredith Mulvany

I never saw god in church.
I’d look around, kicking my feet in the pew
Staring at the rainbows filtering through the stained glass
And looking at the people around me
Their eyes fixated on the priest
Hands swatting sleeping husbands and noisy children
Suited men standing proud as they put larger and yet lesser offerings in the dish
Passed between whispering ushers and glazed vision, penny pinching claws
I never saw god.

I listened to the sermons, dissecting them with scalpel and tongues
They always sounded hollow, whistling with holes.
Leaving me spiraling with why’s and who’s and what’s
Only hearing how they read the texts
Reducing lives to ash in hollowed bodies
Ducking my head to flip through transparent pages of hymnals
I never heard god.

I felt the burn of the coarse carpet on my knees, smelling the sickly wine in the trays
I felt the ache in my shoulder as I lit the candles at the altar of a lord who wished for no gold
Feeling the urge to stroke the flames and wondering if it would burn like god or the devil
Felt the kicks on the back of the pew during chapel
Felt the sting of their boot and the lashing on the other cheek
I felt the hollow pull in my chest as I realized I’d never appease the congregation
I never felt god.

I scoured the texts for signs of reason and life
Reading about a dragon sent down to earth
About the love of men and scorned women
Absorbing the tales of poisoned rivers
Boils and pustules across children’s backs
Locusts with iron breastplates and lion’s teeth
I never found god in the bible

I stopped searching for god in church

             
Meredith Mulvany is a Junior in Theatre and Comm at Waldorf University. Despite not being a writing major, she loves to write stories and poetry in her free time, especially exploring human morality and theological interpretation. She's honored to be accepted into the Lit Review for a third time.