IN THE BEGINNING was the Word
and the Word was whatever
the preacher said it was.
I never really knew what he meant about
God as the word in the beginning and all that.
But I loved the sound of the preacher's voice so
just went along with it.

One Sunday, my head against Mama's shoulder 
when the Word made me too tired,
and the prayer was the long one, not the Lord's Prayer, but the one
that always meant I could close my eyes for a long time...

I slipped into the drowsy church sleep that happened to kids
who probably needed to sleep in on Sundays 
(We didn't know much about circadian rhythm then, or if grownups did,
they didn't care.)
"Resting my eyes," as folks say,
When my head (with a mind of its own) bounced hard on my flat chest
Snapping me awake so fast - Did I snore like Granddaddy?? 

My eyes huge like saucers, I  was embarrassed 
that I had dozed off like a little baby
Right there in the big, fancy First Baptist Church in front of everybody,
God and my mama.
Mama looked at me side-eyed and I 
Readied myself for a pinch on my thigh

But for no good reason whatsoever
We both started to chuckle silently
Bobbing our chests just a little bit
Until we couldn't stop and the tears started
Falling, shoulders jerking up and down 
Our silent laughter about to make us explode.

Mama reached in her coat pocket 
for an old tissue from Lord knows where
We both kept our heads down
Pretending to be praying and maybe, people thought,
a little overcome by the preacher's words and 
his soothing voice that we liked.
Folks might have thought we were crying, feeling
sorry for ourselves.
Divorced mother with three kids and all.

But we were really laughing, trying to breathe and be quiet
The laughter inside us desperate, fighting to get out
Maybe like IN THE BEGINNING when the Word
was God and IT wanted to get out into the world, too,
But it wasn't the right time or place because people weren't ready,
weren't wise enough
So had to be stuffed away, stifled, until it was about to burst through
And all it was doing was not manifesting or saving the world quite yet
But, like us, shaking the pews.