Airy rays of sunlight
shone brazenly through the stained glass,
illuminating the painted figures
with a heavenly hue.
It gave them a breath of life,
an authority to invade the privacy
of the people bowed in prayer.
There weren’t very many –
people, that is –
they dotted the pews sparsely, their heads
hunched over themselves, like
children who were bad
at playing hide-and-seek.
She realized maybe that’s what they were
as she joined them.
The silence didn’t make her uncomfortable;
it was when a quiet cry
off the walls did she cringe.
Her hands fisted
on top of the pew in front of her
as she stared at each individual wood grain
that created the bench.
She wondered if that was how God saw the world:
creating something bigger than themselves.
Salty tears trekked down her cheeks,
a warm reminder she could still feel.
She didn’t like the thought
of being microscopic; indistinguishable
from the whole mess of humanity.
Her throat constricted, swallowing words.
She hoped God didn’t like looking at people that way either.