Church at the End of the Gravel Road

There’s an old deserted church 

          at the end 

          of the gravel road. 

Its steeple, once tapering high 

          into the country air, 

          rests toppled on the earth 

          and points no more toward God. 

Its bell, once full of melody

          echoing into the hills,

          hangs cracked in the tower 

          calling no one with welcoming tones. 

Its altar, once illuminated by hues

          from stained glass, 

          remains barren 

          stripped by windowless color. 

Its pulpit, once alive with words 

          to enlighten and encourage,

          stands vacant 

          void of faith and compassion. 


That old wooden house of worship—

          in its brilliance, it was us; 

          but selfish concerns distracted the faithful,

          leading to neglect. 

Churchgoers, blinded by apathy,

          barely noticed the gradual decay;

          they ceased in their worship, 

          gathering only upon occasion. 

Repairs remained unattended 

          until its structure, empty and isolate,

          could no longer be restored.  


And so now here we are 

          at the end 

          of the gravel road. 


What are you looking for?