Rework of "Anxiety is painful" poem. More life added more stanzas, but I'm not sure if it would be better as prose instead. While I really enjoy this poetry forum (I always learn something new), I'm realizing I don't think poetry is a strength for me. Any input (and some encouragement) would be greatly appreciated.
At the Front
Arriving late on Easter Sunday,
the only empty seats are at the front left.
Thank God we arrived after greeting time.
I’m out of “everything’s fine” smiles.
No positive thinking left
that everyone washes their hands.
If we go to the front,
they’ll ask us to stand for praise and worship,
and there’s no way to hide white, bulky bandages
when you’re standing at the front.
My hands are always bandaged.
Avoidance works only for so long.
OCD drives me back
so that Anxiety can hold my hands on the burner.
My husband takes one bandaged hand
and leads me down the narrow side aisle
along the wall of sparkling stained glass.
He doesn’t let go of my hand during praise and worship.
He covers my hand with his during the sermon.
After the altar call,
at the beginning of the closing song,
I turn around.
My grandma had been sitting behind us all along.
My parents come down from the choir loft.
My mom hugs me and points out that,
“You came.”
__________
Renee Barger
April 2019
At the Front
Arriving late on Easter Sunday,
the only empty seats are at the front left.
Thank God we arrived after greeting time.
I’m out of “everything’s fine” smiles.
No positive thinking left
that everyone washes their hands.
If we go to the front,
they’ll ask us to stand for praise and worship,
and there’s no way to hide white, bulky bandages
when you’re standing at the front.
My hands are always bandaged.
Avoidance works only for so long.
OCD drives me back
so that Anxiety can hold my hands on the burner.
My husband takes one bandaged hand
and leads me down the narrow side aisle
along the wall of sparkling stained glass.
He doesn’t let go of my hand during praise and worship.
He covers my hand with his during the sermon.
After the altar call,
at the beginning of the closing song,
I turn around.
My grandma had been sitting behind us all along.
My parents come down from the choir loft.
My mom hugs me and points out that,
“You came.”
__________
Renee Barger
April 2019
Last edited by renee.barger on Sat Apr 27, 2019 8:36 pm; edited 1 time in total (Reason for editing : accidentally typed "for the choir loft" instead of "from")