The Lonely Church

I am a stranger amongst friends. Ivy grows along my walls; the altar once proud is now streaked with brown dirt from crawling critters. Pews stand tall and silent, creaking under the weight of a sleeping fox rather than a sinner. I have become lost in time, foliage eating me up until I became part of the forestscape. My purpose is withering away. I am alone. Save the creatures who find solace in my walls and hatch their young in my shutters. Yet I wait, wait to see who will find me and save me from my eternal loneliness. After all, I was created to serve Man.

I am awoken by gentle whispers and stumbling feet. A young couple, hands strung in each other’s hair, push past the threshold and stumble into the round room. She is dressed in beautiful white, he in clean wool pants and a linen shirt. They talk and laugh in each other’s arms, as if they require the other’s breath to function. He pulls her to the altar. It now has a crack reaching the ground, and the bits of stone that have chipped away litter the floor like wedding confetti. They clasp hands, bathed in the glittering light streaming in through the central stained glass window. She looks up at the window, at the image of The Son looking down at her. She looks away sharply, and there is a beat before her smile reaches its full luminosity again. Who does she think of when she looks toward Him? They whisper to each other, nodding and laughing softly as he slips a thin golden band around her ring finger. She slips a silver band on him and they fall into a kiss, melting into each other. It has been so long since I have been part of something, so I savour their joy. I savour being remembered, found amongst the shrubbery. Perhaps they have restored my purpose. Without the purpose I was created with, I am left to find my own. The thought of it freezes me from the inside out. I crave the return of company. I crave being a part of the world. I crave being known. I wish to serve.

The couple part. Suddenly, the room rings with laughter and they run out, throwing me open without a glance behind. I lose them amongst the trees, but no matter. I had already said my goodbye. 

The need for me is over. I expect to be alone again. It is hours later when she returns. Her dress is dirtied, ripped and soaked crimson. She crumples at the altar as if someone had pulled out her life force. She looks up at Him again. The woman places something down, but I cannot see past her weeping body. The sun rises above her; in despair, she slumps to the side. There is a glint of harsh silver lying on the ground, a band flecked with red. 

She, like me, is alone in this world.