sometimes I just sit in the chapel


imageimageimagesometimes I genuflect before entering the pew

sometimes I lie in the pew and let my mind wander

always, I wonder how old the creaky pews must be

sometimes I can get through a decade

sometimes I pray the whole rosary

sometimes Father B. walks in with his scraggly service dog and we talk about life

many times I think of how I am lucky

sometimes I think about funerals

lately I look at the architecture and think about that art history midterm coming up

mostly I just think “what  a beautiful chapel”




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