A Church
A Church
You’ll find there a church
That was a house before,
Before a woman knelt down
In the kitchen and prayed.
She was worried about her son.
The authorities had told her
They couldn’t promise
They could protect him,
Like a kid who keeps getting picked up
On the wrong side of town.
Of course she knelt
Facing the hearth,
Where the altar is now.
They hung her son on the wall
Like a painting, if you drove
The nails into the canvas.
They turned her into a statue
And put her in the corner.
Mothers pray to her
To protect their sons,
But all she wants is
To make hers some soup.