Scott Simpson · Poetry
The Club
Restoration Blues · source pages 11
All poetryThe original line breaks, stanza spacing, and placement are preserved. Long lines scroll horizontally.
Source page 11
The Club
Inside, we spoke of love—
outside, of why they weren’t really Christians.
We laughed nervously at youth rallies,
mouthed the right phrases,
practiced the hymns of the in-crowd.
There were questions we learned not to ask,
locks we never tested.
Faith was a laminated card,
a name on a roster, a fee paid up.
The kingdom of God was a club
with velvet ropes and bouncers at the door.
And we were safe there—
until we saw those outside,
not nearly as damnable as we’d
been led to believe
It was then we realized—
the walls we built high to keep them out
were too air-tight for us to breathe.
Copyright Scott Simpson, All Rights Reserved
