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Your God is nailed to a plank,
where is the freedom in that?
No
mine is a wandering whisper
that walks through the woods,
free of your phantom fears.
It forms itself in the white space
them hairline cracks
between lines of dusty pews;
once when words were once offered to your God
have become echoes on the cobwebs,
that barely support the remaining pillars
which fall
fall
fall
in His church.
Little do you realise
that a life chained to rigidity
has crumbled your abbeys, dissolved your monasteries—
left ruins.
Tell me
can your God exist in dead churches?
Thomas is a third-year English and Creative Writing student with an interest in all things poetry. Outside of his studies, Tom spends his time writing posts for his blog and Instagram poetry account (@_3lectrify_), whilst helping to make Man Met’s Poetry Society a great part of MMU–as the society’s Vice-Chair and Treasurer. Though he writes about anything and everything that takes his fancy, Tom has a penchant for writing compelling works about nature and mythology.
This creative piece was submitted as part of our August and September theme: FREEDOM. If you would like to submit your own creative work to aAh! Magazine, please email aAh.Editor@gmail.com, and be sure to check our latest “Letter from the Editors” to find out next month’s theme.
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