it’s not intentional.

i don’t believe in god - i wasn’t raised that way. yet i sing in latin and i joined the church choir right down the street. the director recruited me after i sang Handel’s “Ah! mio cor” at my grandpa’s funeral, which happened to be on my birthday. i forgot his name, but i remember his face.

the choir was full of people at least three times my age. i was 16, and i sang alto. every song was about praising god, and honestly, i never quite understood it. i like to believe the weight of the word behind what i’m singing, and all these people do, except for me. i recall sitting through the church services wondering why i was there… i’m not religious… i might be a little resentful…

mom always kept a stone buddha in the yard. i’d rub his head now and then. mom and dad never placed words in my mouth to repeat, only meals. i speak with intention, but it’s not intentional.

no song sings the truth, yet i sing so many words.

she calls me miso soup. she tells me she hears my name in a fiona apple lyric, even though that’s not what the lyric is actually saying. the song is quite sad.

i love you. yet, i sing too many words i don’t believe.