Sundays are for Mothers

Promising and new, what did you hope for us as we took turns sharing you?

Your body was our bread

Your blood was our wine

We didn’t need Sunday school to know that our connection was blessed and divine

We were no exception to the rule of threes – each one so different from the last – what did you imagine we would turn out to be?

You thank God, but I thank Science that we learned the dialogue of the stars before being pushed into a world where there are no Zions

Sundays were once for God, but now I reserve them for you

Living proof of the cosmos

Boundless and true

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