'I have the best voice in this entire room,'
I tell myself and smile at the realization.
Shutting my eyes, I become consumed
by the cacophonous creation
of mixed voices - each in a different key.
So I sing extra loud and with finesse,
entirely (okay, conceitedly) pleased
when my sound, though small, overpowers the rest.

"He is the Way, the Truth, and the Light,"
we sing. "Alleluia, Amen." And I note
that though the song is flawed, it ignites
something that shuts me up mid-gloat.
Because now they're rocking in their seats,
heads up, eyes closed, hands clutching the air -
and I find my voice can no longer compete.
My mouth sings their words, but my heart lacks their prayer.