The Widow's Pew
Upon the widow's pew I sit
with women whose husbands have passed,
worshipping in truth and spirit,
trying not to appear downcast.
Morning death of another kind,
upon the widow's pew I sit.
Unequally yoked, misaligned,
I pray for the dead in spirit.
Am I like him, a hypocrite,
leaving God on the widow's pew?
Upon the widow's pew I sit,
humbled, seeking forgiveness anew.
Still alone, but in company,
God places me where he sees fit.
Each week with greater empathy,
upon the widow's pew I sit.
1/26/2020
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