In front of the altar,
up close, you’ll see
a variety of people
different cultures, beliefs, behaviours
all bowing at the cross.
But I wonder, on days like this,
if they’ll all make it
to the place they hope for
after death.
Yes—heaven.
Because I,
standing before this altar,
am an observer,
a quiet journalist of my own,
driven by curiosity.
I study this crowd of hidden wolves,
an uneasy feeling in my chest
as their real selves slip through
every now and then
even behind their masks.
Just for a moment,
they show themselves.
And I see it,
the need to belong,
the fear of being left behind,
the performance of holiness,
the hunger to be seen,
to be chosen
by those who call themselves sheep.
And still,
I see you
most of you
as you sing,
kneeling
in front of the altar.
Pretending
not before God,
but before each other.
Mar 17
Mar 17, 2026 at 3:51 PM UTC
In front of the altar,
up close, you’ll see
a variety of people
different cultures, beliefs, behaviours
all bowing at the cross.
But I wonder, on days like this,
if they’ll all make it
to the place they hope for
after death.
Yes—heaven.
Because I,
standing before this altar,
am an observer,
a quiet journalist of my own,
driven by curiosity.
I study this crowd of hidden wolves,
an uneasy feeling in my chest
as their real selves slip through
every now and then
even behind their masks.
Just for a moment,
they show themselves.
And I see it,
the need to belong,
the fear of being left behind,
the performance of holiness,
the hunger to be seen,
to be chosen
by those who call themselves sheep.
And still,
I see you
most of you
as you sing,
kneeling
in front of the altar.
Pretending
not before God,
but before each other.
