Richard Schnap- A Poem

HOUSES OF WORSHIP

I remember the clubs of Oakland
Churches to comfort the soul
The block-long shrine of the Sanctuary
With its dance floor altar in its heart

The sacred cathedral of the Decade
With its Baptist ministers of Blues
Lifting their voices to heaven
While the kegs of holy water flowed

And the New Wave chapel of the Upstage
Where I’d sit at the end of a pew
As the dancers exorcised their demons
Beneath the stained glass mirrored ball

But all that is left now are memories
Of times and places now gone
When sinners forgot their transgressions
And for a few hours felt like saints