I am returning to church for the first time today.
I bought a star of David necklace before I came.
I wear it like a shield,
though I know no one here will proselytize.
I wear it anyway. Just in case.
Like a sign.
I am converting to Judiasm.
You can't convert me back.
I am a stranger now.
I am a stranger now.
The pew feels stiff under me.
The stained glass windows, still beautiful,
don't let in the type of light I see at synagogue.
The hymns, still familiar,
don't hold the same weight.
The inspirational video in the middle of service
still makes me giggle.
It looks like a film trailer.
I guess some things don't change.
Some things don't change.
The choir members greet me with hugs and kisses.
They ask if I'll come back again, just to sing.
I let try to let them down easy.
Probably not.
Fair, the director jokes,
We don't sing a lot of songs in Hebrew.
But maybe I will come back to sing,
I tell myself. They could use the voices.
Then I drive home, everything forgotten.
