Placing holy water on our wrists like perfume.
Locking ourselves in chapels,
Forgetting the reason for churches.
Do you remember the day
You carved a crucifix into my forehead?
Used the ashes of Christ as a band aid?
The Holy Spirit guided your numb limbs like
An ungodly puppeteer.

The almighty father smiles sadly.
He takes me in his arms,
Says, “My child, I am not sorry.”