Religiously,

Religiously,

Even those who don’t,

Do,

Heads bowed eyes closed

Lips moving

Hoping for the best

In a cruel world

Hot blooded boys

Slowly cooled.

Incremental changes

Barely registered

At first

Until the undeniable truths

Dawn

Age has withered them

Reflexes are slower

They are no longer

The only dry eye in the house

Sentimentality

Has crept in

As cynicism has been shown the door.

Religion might be

Anachronistic

Feudalistic and unscientific

But a church can be a quiet place

To sit

For the time it takes

To register an interest

In redemption.

Perhaps the wooden pew

Is as much support

As we can expect

When we see cruelty

In hope,

Intolerance in conviction.

A place of sanctuary

Only really matters

To the heretic

When there is no other living soul

Leaning in

Breathing a few preachy words

Sterilised in sacramental Scotch

To breach personal space

And the privacy

Of the moment.