I keep blinking,
flashing signs of God and man.
Hallelujah!
Gold crosses piercing into the thick, blue sky.
Follow the lines down to the bell tower,
on top of the rusted green roof.
Amen! I say Amen!

I'm anxious and
keep blinking.
Watching God through thick windows and
the sun is casting shadows.
Engulfing the bright red brick in doubt.

I keep blinking
and this is my only view.

A house for the faithful
closed,
boarded up from the elements
and the homeless.
The day of reckoning is upon it.

My eyes blink faster.
What have I done?
Wishing I could see the sky again.
Choirs of angels replaced by
the pigeons roosting on the falling gutter
of this fallen congregation.

Struggling with the faith
I have forgotten.

If life flashed before your eyes,
I'd better keep blinking.

The Lord's home is smothered by Black Locust.
Is this the new normal?
Doubting faith,
accepting that it's not just a building.
It's all around.

I keep blinking,
snapshots of forgotten faith.
Rain begins to fall on the Holy Site.
And I can't stop blinking.

I can only spin around in my chair
and forget.