Old Building, Where Is Home?

I wrote this about an old church I used to years ago. Everything was changing and the home I called that church for my childhood and adolescent years became a strange building.
That home turned into a building.


Old Building,  Where Is Home?

I thought when I walked into this building 
That I could call it home 
I thought it was away 
Away from the sickness of this world 

I thought when I found shelter in this building 
That it would welcome me, all of the time 
Time has proved me wrong 
As the seasons change 
This building has turned bitter 
As it seems, only to me 

Where is my coat? 
Have you taken it? 
Where are my shoes? 
Have you stolen them? 

I hope to guard my heart 
Before it is stolen as well 

Thank you

I Can’t Help But Wonder

I can’t help but wonder
How all the little pieces come together
I think back to when my memory begins
I had broken pieces of a childhood
Severed chords of my adolescent years
And prison to pay for my actions when I was an adult

I can’t help but wonder
I sit here in this church sitting beside the one I love
The reflection leaves me weary and sad
But my reflection ends when I look at what I have now
How can all the broken pieces of my life
Form together to make something whole?

I can’t help but wonder
Somebody asks me a question
“Is God good?”