Driving today,
On my way to work.
I noticed a path,
To a little Church.
Small and old,
Peeling paint.
Still a place,
For devoted faith.
I imagined this Easter,
Fills up with people.
All gathered within,
This structure with steeple.
Though not polished,
Or huge and grand.
It suits the needs,
The neighborhood demands.
Whether the Holy Days,
Or, Sunday best,
Or, a funeral mass,
Before one’s eternal rest.
Or, a marriage between,
Two in such love,
A ceremony with,
The release of doves.
Look past the appearance,
Of the walls outside.
For what’s happening within,
Feeds religious pride.
That all should gather,
For the Easter feast.
Stand in the church doorway,
Each other warmly greet.