the sun is a halo over the steeple
blinding cast on the winter snow
most are confused by a peaceful sleep
quiet now or the reality will show


is this how life as
an insider looks?
like disciples,
they gather only to disperse
loud sheep, starving

up out of my seat,
walk fast past the pews
stained glass windows,
cold smelly books in brown
wooden rooms

through the wet white terrain

where everything sparkles like crystals
my knees were bleeding, i cried
*take me home, take me home