Empty Pews

EMPTY PEWS These seats have stories and if they could talk You would hear of the lives that many people walk The church filled on each weekly Sunday morn With families and neighbors and hearts that are torn They will show up today maybe hear Some good news As they forced themselves to fill empty pews The pastor is new or maybe been round the block Dressed real nice does he really walk the walk His wife is quiet what goes on in the home? Does she have his back or is her heart on the roam? His suit well pressed and perfectly shined shoes But does he really care for those in the pews If they come at all the men in that town From working all week and from being beat down Full of guilt and grief and worry and sorrow They’ve no time for shallowness dealing with tomorrow Last night they got hammered from drinking the booze And reluctantly strolled in hungover to rest in these pews Mother sits down after dropping off kids She needs a break from cleaning up babies bibs The bills the laundry and the groceries are low But on Sunday for a moment a bit time will slow Tomorrow morning will come there will be no hitting the snooze She’s thinking of all she’s to do Sitting there in the pews Here comes a single man internally shamed Unable to find a wife but his eyes lust in flame Unable to get a grip he is labored and worn Won’t share at all that he’s addicted to **** Trying to fit in and find his way but extremely confused Maybe there is wisdom found down the isle of these pews A young woman not modest but with a figure and pretty And she is well acquainted with that forbidden city Will she be met with grace or blatantly refused She has heard of the self righteous who sit in those pews The elderly still come with hair full of gray Waiting patiently to meet there maker any a day Weaker now but heaven is in their full view Praying to see him siting here in these cold wooden pews The congregation is a mix whites blacks and Asian Mexican, educated, rich, poor and gender persuasion Some come for comfort and mercy others for fire and brimstone But I guarantee that each person suffers individually alone Everyone wakes on Sunday with a conscious that’s bruised But deep down inside they want to be healed by the pews The devil and his demons love and serve to wreck havoc They run interference in your mind with much traffic To deter you and beat you with incredible abuse But you can and you must endure like these old worn out pews By: beardedjarhead