Continuance

Is this our day of rest?
I cast away my church-going clothes
when, in transition to my upper school
our vicar smiled, explaining we should turn
to God and Jesus in our troubled times.

Smack, I had been sort-of-Christian
until this best-intention caught me
at my weakest time.
Angered, I smacked all faith aside -
welcomed in my new belief - brave
cynicism arise!

and show me to my adult self. Force
this foolish religious childishness
aside. And here I am:
shopping bags in hand, screaming:
"Open all shops, this is the only day I can

proliferate my worth" - a rest of sorts.
Arrested thoughts, thoughts long gone.
This cynical siding, a still-clefted path.
Still, unhappy in my shopping -
It's a sort-of start.