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Nov 2011
i do not find god hovering above cold stone altars.
i do not find the almighty trapped inside a loaf of bread.
i do not find salvation in marble statues of virgins and carpenters
or fervent and pious prayers written years ago by people i've never met.

i do not feel redeemed as i'm told to sink to my knees in a chapel.
i do not feel saved when i'm asked to weep in repentence at confession.
i do not feel filled or satisfied as i watch dozens of haggard mothers
struggle in vain to herd their children through winding communion lines.

my eternity is in the gentle swell of waves at high tide.
my forever is in the wisps of the clouds; white as cotton in the sky.
my purpose is in the touch of a hand, the warmth of a smile -
in the ringing sound of laughter carried away on autumn breezes.
Chelsea Gabbard
Written by
Chelsea Gabbard  Cincinnati
(Cincinnati)   
1.1k
   ---, M P Hill, Waverly, --- and Jon Tobias
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