Church

It took half a lifetime for me to come to Jesus.
I still don’t like to go to church with its old people
wrapped in stained glass and musty coats.
Silent feet treading on stale carpet place me
back into a judgmental congregation.
I was four years old when mama put me into
a fluffy pink Sunday dress. I looked up at my suit
clad daddy and stomped my foot.
“I don’t want to go to church”!!! I shouted.
I can see my daddy now in slow  motion,
pealing off his belt while he said,
“Don’t you EVER say that again”!
He beat my tender skin with that black
leather strap until I had stripes across my back.
Jesus was beaten with whips.
But I still don’t like to go to church.

9-25