At the doorway settles the dust,
The cobwebs, the doubts.

I grew up with spirituality
In my toy room,
Cornered and neglected.
Scattered Barbies and building blocks,
More games than floor,
More dust than flower water
On feets of God
Whose names I did not know,
Whose stories I wasn't taught.

Scraped knee and loneliness,
He and Them looked just like
The illustrations in my storybook.
Crowned head, shaded body.
Two hands, two legs. Two distant eyes.
Yet when I pleaded, none of Them
Came down to play with me.
I promise there is a softness in me
That is worth worshipping too.

I have entered temples with
Half-open eyelids and mind,
My faith has never been tall
Enough to ring the bells outside,
Never been told which way to turn
Once I have finished praying,
Or how long my prayer should last even.
Should I keep my wishlist for Him short?
Should I ask for what's impossible?

I have always wondered if
My faith is 5 inches shorter,
My granted and given 5 inches
Lesser than my wants because
I sat 5 inches away from an idol
When I was 5 and fell asleep.
Or is it because someone else's
Prayers have always been
Louder than mine?

But today, when I stand,
In a new light, sun salutes and apologises,
My sincerity and faith in order,
Guilt that has snaked my heart
And weighed my mind for too long,
It is my homecoming.
It is me looking God in the eye again,
And asking Him,
To take me inwards and to take me home.