Our Lady of Innocence

I know of an old church in a land far away

Where people would gather to lift their voices

With tears in their eyes, to God,

Knowing He was always listening

To whatever they felt they had to say.

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Sun once shone through stained glass windows,

Beautiful in red, blues, and greens,

Showing stories of the past in pieces of glass;

Mastery of art I could never match,

Only appreciate from afar.

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The people filed in doors carved with crosses

Entwined with olive branches and flying doves.

They sat in simple wooden pews worn smooth

From so many bodies and hands

Coming to pray.

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Pillars of snow white marble held up the ceiling

Carved with swirls and designs from long ago.

Sometimes showing faces from the stories,

Or nothing at all.

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No one goes to the church anymore;

It sits alone on a hill abandoned and forgotten

By all but nature, the wind,

And me.

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I wish I could go inside it again,

Sit in the pews and gaze in awe at the windows

Made of bits of glass.

I wish I could raise my voice to God again

And know He can hear me.

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But the doors were barred long ago,

The windows are cracked and broken,

The pillars worn and faded with age.

I want to go back inside to be free again.

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I can only gaze from afar

And dream.