Growing up in God's House -- revision

[Lizzie]

I looked for him the way some people look for ghosts
and dread meeting celebrities.

They said the church was his house,
that he was in the air
all around us,
and we could hear him whisper.

I knelt by the altar
like the adults who wept there,
playing make believe.

I opened the 6-foot grand piano
and played from mom's sheet music.
She told me once that she saw him
emerge from the cross
and that it bled electric red.
He asked her if she was ready for heaven—

she asked for more time
to raise her kids, to see us get saved.

I never stared directly
at that cross again for fear
of what otherworldly things I might see.

I climbed the steps to the pulpit
where only one man was allowed to stand.
On tiptoes, I looked over the empty pews
and said prayers
through a cold microphone
into the air
all around me.

I looked for him the way people look for funnel clouds
and dread seeing the dead one day.

Was he there, above me
all the time
                       wordless,
waiting for me to discover fire
and finally
earn his love?

They said it was His house,
the church—
that He was in the air
all around us,
and we could hear him whisper
if we believed
that we could hear.

I looked for God the way some people look for ghosts
and dread meeting celebrities.

I knelt by the altar
like the adults who wept there,
playing make believe,
seeking
an experience of my own.

I opened the 6-foot grand piano
and played from the hymnal
or from my mom's sheet music
that always sat at the end of the front left pew.
She told me once that she saw Him
come out of the 20-foot tall cross
behind the choir during a service
and that it bled electric red.
She said He asked her if she was ready for Heaven—
She asked for more time.

Sometimes I climbed up the steps to the pulpit
where only one man was allowed to stand.
On tiptoes, I looked out at the empty pews
and said prayers
into the unresponsive microphone.

I looked for God the way people look for funnel clouds
and dread seeing the dead one day,
the way I never stared directly at that cross again
for fear
of what otherworldly things I might see.

I grew up in His house—
He was there, but only half-aware,
all the time above me,
all the time
                 wordless,
waiting for me to discover fire
and finally
earn His love.