something about faith

my head is heavy.

i am touching my own fingertips,

they are soft and

//quiet//

the energy is flowing.

we have the same geography.

speaking inbetweens,

under waters, walking to parking spaces

or screaming at you on my knees-

i am free

i am freeing myself of the weighted worldly ties of flesh,

swirling up the spirit from a great hall or tiny dusty corner niche

and flying.

i am worship watching

and by watching, i am harmonizing

the words of gospels and

great men who stand wise before the body

and how the body stands next to my own soul.

the ground it vibrates, the floor is on fire.

twilight illuminates the pine arches through celestial auras

and windows

to light.

the decrepid throw their hands like widows,

green-eyed twinkling, at lover's who have already gone home.

they are the faithful lambs standing and serving.

Conversations carry for hours,

I start with soft words.

Sometimes, I don't speak at all,

my prayer is a smile.

Father, will you let me stay here?

Father, I hear you call me daughter

and you've never even held my hand.