A congregation of ex-congregants
Crowd the subway corners
With a stray “Our Father” still on their lips
While the tunnel light inches closer.

Everybody wants a seat on the train,
Everybody wants to feel like they’re going somewhere,
But most people end up standing on the train
And only arrive at a portion of somewhere.

Directions come in handy
When you believe in directions;
Otherwise they only hold you back,
Only show you stale ways of doing things.

Recipes and atlases,
Encyclopedias and enyclicals
All march forth in unison
With world-domination dreams.

Ex-congregants form a congregation
That corners the subway crowd,
Their lips never straying from the “Our Father”
Which inches them closer to the tunnel of light. In the middle of the middle of a mid-romance pause
He saw a beginning couple in the Thai restaurant
Nowhere near the point of rushing to the end,
Rushing to the next soulmate opportunity.

They sat at the same table
Having a similar conversation
With a similar kind of unevenness
Marring the bliss of infatuation.

Where will they be two months from now?
Or hell, even two days?
Pretending to agree on touchy subjects
Or touching waists as a frail defense?

Anyhow, he didn’t want to stop and think,
He’d rather be on his merry way;
Wasn’t much for memories or memorizing mirrors
Held up to his own tragic situation.

Was it really tragic though?
Was it even worth crying about?
Just a typical crisis of identity,
Crisis of wants disguised as needs.

In the middle of the middle of a middling melee
Fought for no apparent reason
Other than to doubt, to desecrate delusions
Of ever having been in love to start with.


Sam Hendrian is a lifelong storyteller striving to foster empathy and compassion through art, particularly the mediums of film, poetry, and lyric-writing. Originally from the Chicago suburbs, he now resides in Los Angeles, where he primarily works as an independent filmmaker and has just completed his first feature film Terrificman, a deeply personal ode to the power of human kindness. You can find more of Sam's poetry on Instagram at @samhendrian143, and his experimental silent films on YouTube (@samhendrian8658).