Every day the abandoned Korean church has its lights on.
The air conditioning unit is falling out from the ceiling,
and ropes warn to not trespass. The ghost of a cross
remains from years of crusted signage.
The sight of abandoned churches
makes me feel
the hollow sorrow of a ghost town
decaying in my chest.
A building is not a church, I have to tell myself.
God is not built out of concrete and glass.
My faith is weak like the rusting facade, relying
on that which I see—
Oh God oh God the rust
Is all I see sometimes
Oh God oh God the rust