Cathedrals of the Disheartened

Centuries of crimes, false miracles, and shame.

Aspirations of sainthood will never be achieved.

Yet Sunday after Sunday, the rites, the rituals,

the hymns and chants, they remain.

The individual is forgotten, the community is broken

yet, by faith alone they sojourn, with relics, icons, and sacramentals.

I once walked these aisles, spoke the words that captivated the people,

pews full of blue haired ladies, hanging on "the word of god"

In many ways, I long for the bliss of ignorance, the warmth of faith.

I desire the feeling of eternal love, yet I only hear the cries of the victims.

A Decade Later