Off Key Hosanna
We never learned the hymns the way they printed them in those cracked old books with the thin paper and the tiny black notes
We learned them sideways in the back row
muttering harmonies that didn’t match
hiding dirty words under our breath inside cheap coats
We came in late, left early
rolled our eyes at sermons about perfect families and pure hearts that never seemed to stray
But every time the choir swelled on some line about mercy for the broken
something in our bad attitudes made us want to stay.
We got told we were sinners for swearing
for kissing who we kissed
for wearing eyeliner and leather and not sitting still in the pew
For asking dumb questions about hell and hunger and why some people get mansions while others sleep three kids to a couch
barely scraping through
We were the loud kids in the parking lot, the smokers
the laughers
the ones who never got picked to read the nice verses into the mic
Yet when our friends crashed cars and overdosed and disappeared into bad marriages
this was still the building we circled at night on a borrowed bike.
We do not believe in spotless souls or neat little answers wrapped in smooth and stained glass
We believe in hungover mornings where you still get up to help someone move
in hospital visits where you crack jokes till the hours pass
In people who show up messy and late and out of breath and still stay when the whole thing crashes fast.
Off key hosanna for the choir in the back who never hits the note but never leaves the room
Hands in pockets, hearts on sleeves
praying with bad posture and waiting for the boom
If the holy place has any sense of humor
it knows the loudest grace comes from the kids who curse and shake and still turn up
Off key hosanna, this is our crooked praise
poured out of a chipped and plastic cup.
You sang your first real prayer into a cheap mic at a dive bar
not in any building with a steeple or a name on the wall
You were three whiskeys deep
eyes shining under bad bright
dedicating a song to everyone who ever felt too small
Your voice cracked on the high note, six-string buzzed
crowd half listened
half yelled at the bartender for another round
But there was one kid by the exit
crying quietly into their hands
drinking up every single sound.
You did not lead them to any doctrine
did not promise heaven or erase their fear with some rehearsed line about fate
You just stayed afterward, sat in the alley with them
let them talk, passed a smoke
told them it made sense to feel this heavy weight
That small act felt more sacred than any polished sermon you ever heard behind the pearly gates.
Off key hosanna for the choir in the back who never hits the note but never leaves the room
Hands in pockets, hearts on sleeves
praying with bad posture and waiting for the boom
If the holy place has any sense of humor
it knows the loudest grace comes from the kids who curse and shake and still turn up
Off key hosanna, this is our crooked praise
poured out of a chipped and plastic cup.
This is not about faith the way they sell it with perfume and fake smiles and pamphlets that smell like fear
This is about holding each other’s hands in waiting rooms and courtrooms and places where the coast is never clear
About feeding your friends when their lights are cut
about saying “fuck, I love you
please stay” when their eyes go flat as stone
If any god is listening through the noise of this mess
that god knows our off key hosanna is the only thing we own.
Off key hosanna for the punks and the nerds and the smoking saints outside the door
For the ones who never learned the proper words but keep showing up when someone hits the floor
If being saved is just another word for not giving up on each other when the road gets rough
Off key hosanna
we are singing it wrong and loud and honest
and that is more than enough.
When my voice goes raw and the band falls apart
I will still raise my cracked throat high
Off key hosanna, holy motherfuck, we are still here
we still try.