No one in my church knows my father
but I carry his name. head bowed
in prayer. in shame. in offering
empty palms turned up at the altar.
i am nothing more than his daughter
begging another man i have never seen.
for mercy. for love. for saving.
there is never a good enough lie to tell.
the truth is always gone.
i am a lonely audience while
the choir hums & the congregation peers over their shoulder. they say neighbor
and the air whispers lonely. the whispers whisper
come forth. no one whispers forgive. so i don’t.
i just carry my void on my shoulders. at the dance. on paper. on my tithes. on my wedding day.
on my smile.
everyone says that’s my best feature. says it lights up a room. could light up the sky.
i think that kind of metaphor is what killed christ.
i was born and named and left.
this smile was born with a window
all my sacred keeps slippin’ right through.
& i just let it. ain’t no sense in chasing what ain’t tryna be caught,
that goes for liquors.
that goes for lovers.
that goes for leavers.
Remember,
no one in my church knows my father
they just know his name.
and pray my strength in His name.
But this name
is mine & all its history.
this smile
is mine & all its fissures.
what comes and goes from my mouth will have been crafted of my own legend.
& who i choose to worship is the one facing me in the mirror
of my own altar.