by Danny McLaren
there are bones everywhere.
they line the walls, the ceilings, mark the path you walk on the floor.
arcs above every doorway,
chandeliers made up of pieces of fallen brothers.
to be immortalized like this is frightening.
yet, oddly comforting.
clergy of centuries past will never leave this holy place.
an ever-growing council of souls to watch over you, to guide you.
the feeling of eyes that have long since rotted away peering down at you.
they will always be in good company here.
kindly old caretakers and members of the church still remain.
and new faces pass by, staring in awe,
it’s okay, a voice behind you whispers, it’s not supposed to be scary.
death isn’t to be feared, after all.
these men who you look up at now are no longer afraid.
life moves quickly, of course, but once it is done you will join them.
maybe not here, maybe not on these walls, but somewhere.
there’s a guest book on your way out.
you leave your regards to the dead.
Danny is a queer writer, photographer, and musician from Toronto. They are currently an undergraduate student majoring in gender studies, with an interest in equity, inclusivity, and diversity-related work, and they let these themes guide much of their work as an artist. They are an editor and co-founder of an arts and culture magazine called Alien Pub.