Cemetery Of The Called.
Where Bright Gifts Go To Nap Forever.
By Cathy (Christine Acheini) Ben-Ameh.Published 4 months ago • 1 min read

Three months was plenty
to smell the mildew of old robes
and the perfume of ambition
that sticks to every hymnal.
They told me it was formation
but the concrete was already cracked.
The professors fed on trauma politely,
like ravens in clerical collars.
Piety became performance art,
with applause for the most exhausted.
The angels of light checked attendance
while demons filed the paperwork.
I left before the sinkholes swallowed me,
before my gifts learned to play dead,
before I joined the clergy choir
of those who failed at everything else
but sermons.
About the Creator
Cathy (Christine Acheini) Ben-Ameh.
https://linktr.ee/cathybenameh
Passionate blogger sharing insights on lifestyle, music and personal growth.
⭐Shortlisted on The Creative Future Writers Awards 2025.

Comments (3)
Glorious work Cathy! This was beautifully-crafted! I loved the candor & elegant way that you used your words! ☺️💪🏾🎉
Damm. I don't know how to play the piano. But when I got to 'hymnal' it felt like my fingers landed on the last two keys. Fitting (ravens in clerical collars). That was so satisfying. It's like 2, 1, 3 , 2. While demons filed paperwork. The grit is gritting. I like the no nonsense— all truth be told — theme in this. Boy did you struck the right chords, I too can come into agreement. This was fantastic, for both it's truth and poetic geniuses. 🤗❤️
That last line lands...and I like "piety became a performance art." Really speaks about the masks of human nature!!