confessions of a Church Girl

I am Church Girl.

I'm the girl that prayed and sang and spoke at the altar,

the one the old people loved, the one they could trust.

I'm the girl who closed her eyes when people prayed,

who raised her hands during music, who cried when

things were intense, but NOT

when they didn't

make sense.

I'm the girl who got angry about hypocrisy, about

hatred and prejudice, the girl asked you questions

you couldn't answer, that you didn't want to hear,

they were too...real,  the girl they weren't

so sure of

anymore.

I was Church Girl.

The truth is, I'm not her,

can't be her, not how you

want her.

You didn't mind if I wanted to speak as long

as I said

the right things, that I didn't speak
out of turn,

didn't mind if I 

prayed

as long as I closed my eyes and

you didn't mind if I cried.

You liked it, I think. Liked that I cried,

liked that you could inspire, could move

the Church Girl. 

You didn't mind that I cried as long as 

I cried about beauty or the right sins or the lost.

If I cried about betrayal or loneliness or doubt

or war

or tragedy

or hypocrisy...

you didn't want to

listen

to that.

Church Girl should be 

stronger

than that.

Church Girl should be in church.

Church should be out here,
out here where the sun shines,
where pain hurts, where people admit
their doubts, the fears,
where people hear.

I can't be Inside with you forever.
I can't be Church Girl; I'm giving you notice.
It's not you, it's me.
We can still be friends, when you
come Outside once in a while,
when you decide its in style.

Confession:

I am not Church Girl.