“I Went to Mass” by Sydney Wagstaff

I went to mass on Sunday,

but it wasn't like before.

No longer did shame force me to pray,

or stare alone at our floor,

at little Mary Janes

swaying through the air.

Still, our knuckles pounded through the sky,

not two clean, outstretched palms,

but two horns, proudly raised high.

We didn't stop to read Psalms,

to sing lonesome, dark hymns.

We chanted as one, celebrating our preacher.

I wasn’t reprimanded, not for casting off the skirt.

Our sermon didn't talk of liking other girls.

Hell wasn’t kept in flames for me in my stained polo shirt,

standing like a soldier next to grandmas clutching their pearls.

Older men were splashing beer on my clothes,

and somehow, Fatherhood fit better on them.

Idols were banned, even during our new age.

I understand why;

four musicians on that elevated stage

held dominion over me. They made me cry

over God, Him, one I used to know,

the God that failed.

Sydney Wagstaff is a student at the Stephen M. Ross School of Business. Outside of class, she spends her time writing both fiction and nonfiction. She is involved in several campus organizations including the Alpha Gamma Delta sorority, Squirrel Club, and LSWA.