by Angela Hoffman
I stared at the statue of Mary while seated with my father in the back row at St. Lawrence. I wanted to see a tear roll down her cemented face. I needed a sign to know that all this talk about God was real that there was a reason we showed up every week. I still search for that confirmation. Perhaps not in such childlike ways. Or perhaps in very childlike ways.
Angela Hoffman lives in Wisconsin. Her poetry has appeared in Solitary Plover, Wisconsin Fellowship of Poets Museletter and calendar, and Your Daily Poem.com.She committed to writing a poem a day during the first two years of the pandemic. Angela’s interests in spirituality and personal growth inspire her poetry.