It started in a church,
\nthe living and the laughing.
\nSorrow came in on Wednesday
\nand sat by itself.
\nLife has pillows and rocks.
\nIn the beginning the knees are sturdy.
\nThen prayers are said,
\nsitting back to relieve the pain.
\nYesterday sorrow descended.
\nBetween laughter and tears
\nliving clutched my hand.
\nWe came to the silence of the church
\nwith only ourselves in the pew.<\/p>\n
There is an echo in the church.
\nAn echo in ourselves when we speak.
\nNo one can tell how long time goes on.
\nBut you come to a city
\nand there are centennials,
\nanniversaries, birthdays and wakes.
\nMarkers between you
\nand the altar of your faith.
\nThat was what was going on in my mind.
\nWhat now is a part of my sleeping
\nand waking.<\/p>\n
When an anniversary comes
\nlike this,
\ncelebrating love and life
\nwith a woman
\nI love more than life itself,
\nit\u2019s a story
\nI am unable to tell
\nfor all its mystery and beauty,
\nexcept to say,
\nit started in a church.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
It started in a church, the living and the laughing. Sorrow came in on Wednesday and sat by itself. Life has pillows and rocks. In…<\/p>\n