Little
Life
I’m not sure about the whole God thing anymore,
but the way the corners of your lips turn
as you strum the guitar and watch me twirl,
gives me the comfort of true religion.
Oh, how content my little life could be,
spinning simply for the pleasure,
as you play little love songs you wrote for me.
If religion is something others seek
to feel purposeful in their own little lives,
I feel like I have discovered my own.
My life could be spent spinning to your strumming, and
no bullets will pierce the hearts of bystanders,
nobody will be shamed for their own little loves,
nobody else needs to be involved at all.
In this church, it’s just us,
dancing to our own music.
Perhaps we will fight and perhaps we will cry.
It’s more than a little inevitable, right?
It’s all for a love that we don’t need faith for.
A love I can reach out–touch, smell, taste, hear, and see.
I can see your fingers picking each string.
You can see me dancing through everything.
by Mackenzie Ice