Hey I sent this in an email but I can post it on here and I am sorry its so late!
The Preacher’s Wife
By: Heather Powell
I am but a preacher’s wife.
I walk into the busy church.
I sit up front; I am devoted, a proud wife and mother.
I stand to sing when I should.
I bow my head in prayer when my husband asks.
I am there for each sermon.
I am but a preacher’s wife.
I go home.
I rest and no one hears my thoughts.
I hope no one heard me hit that note today, it was flat.
I know they hated my haircut.
I could almost hear the disapproval in that woman’s voice when she said,
“I just love the way your hair looks this afternoon!”
I hope they think I am a good mother.
I wanted her to stop crying so I scorned her.
I bet they’re all talking about that.
I wanted to go to the ladies’ card game but what would they want a preacher’s wife in their games for?
I wouldn’t have looked down on them.
I can have fun, too.
I wish I could.
I am not just a preacher’s wife.
I have no friends, no one to tell.
I can’t just run away.
I couldn’t just leave?
I must, oh I must.
What about my daughter?
I can’t breathe!
I know they will live happily together.
I don’t want to be but a preacher’s wife.
I have to escape their wagging tongues.
I must run from their judging eyes.
This isn’t arbitrary.
I can not be in this trap any longer.
I was once but a preacher’s wife.
I have left them all behind.
I am no longer a preacher’s wife or her mother.
I was once but a preacher’s wife.
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