Praise be to the pain of the pew!
Hard wooden bench, you are forever burned into my memory.
The way your unforgiving surface cuts into the arch of my back
during the seemingly endless lectures,
that drone on about the “Light of my life”
and how I was created to appease him.
That hour dedicated to making me feel like cattle
as opposed to the lamb my shepherd is supposedly protecting

That endless hour of watching the iridescent light
shine through the stained glass
and thinking about how I much preferred the shining of the sun
As opposed to a “light”
that didn’t even warm my face when I looked his way


Your beauty is appreciated greatly.
Though the glossy finish is deceiving,
for when I sit upon it I feel the chill on my bare legs
as I am reminded that I was forced into wearing my sunday best

Oh mighty Pew, I must give you thanks.
You were the only thing that held me up
when the weight of the harsh judgement,
the intense trailing eyes that raked over your image mercilessly
and intrusive mouths full of only the nosiest questions
made me want to drop to the kneeler
even when we weren’t told to bow our heads in prayer.




I am forever grateful
for the amusement
of peeling flaking paint off of your corners
to battle the brain mutilating boredom
that came along with the monotone voice of the pastor.

You truly are beautiful,
You and your clones all lined up one behind the other.
All facing towards the front
where the cross stood above all,
the lord’s painted eyes watching us.

All of us!
A bunch of sinners.
How fearless of you, great pew
to harbor such sinning souls.
To help them convert
to something worth saving.

So even if your hard surface cuts into the arch of my back,
And your glossy finish deceives me with it’s cold exterior.
I must thank you
for helping me sit up straight in church.
because I wasn’t sure,
between the judgemental stare
and the hissing threats from my mother,
if I could even slouch in my seat
Without the need to beg for the forgiveness.