"Dark Churches"

Dark churches
And tear stained pews
Sun drenched glass
And a red candle

Heaven collides with Earth

You don't speak in sounds as we are used to them,
Oh Silent One.
Your verbs are actual verbs
Your vowels are human history
All that we know, all that we are
Contained in a single breath.

Marble splashed in twilight
Heartbreaking color
And deep silence

As if the walls are praying

Indeed they are
These bricks have listened to decades of prayers
Whispered, sung, lamented
Accompanied by incense and flowers
and white lace and black satin
and fresh oil and dripping wax

And so much sorrow you could drown in it
And so much mercy you could rise
And so much joy there aren't enough words!
And hope.
Hope you can taste.

When Earth houses Heaven
Reality becomes an epiphany

Poem

I have prayed these prayers since I was a child
I will pray these prayers to my grave.

Rhythmic, they calm me when I am crying.
Ancient, a greeting whispered centuries, no, millennia ago.
As familiar to me as my father's face and as comforting as my mother's hug.
Wisdom I don't understand.
Faith I want to have.
Now and at the hour of my death.
Amen.

Poem 3/20/14

I'll fold your words into paper cranes
And release them to the wind
The material is made beautiful in my hands
Flightless birds
Carrying the weight of paper