Flame burning On the carved altar Bringing light To darkness Eyes closed Head turned To the wall Prostrate Under the image Waiting Under the glare Of your idolatry Expecting the blow Or the blessing Voice echoes Long after the sun Until its final sounds fade Fighting darkness To stay and listen When before I’ve always run Scripture binds the room In silence Until it begins again With a new dawn
Staying in the dark as the temperature falls, touches my skin Here, when I want to run. Doors open, Cloaks on the floor. Talking, My silent tongue. Hounds fallen abated in time. Locked in the room lined in reams Lifting the print from the walls. Lights burn Moon falls Drinking the cup Passing the cloth Placating the crowd as they stand in the square. Waiting, The Holy Door, I walked through years before. Walking in the footprints Standing in the shadows On the empty chairs. The echo in the pillars, The doves that fly waves from their wings passing distance and time. To stand alone at this door as the bells toll
Film frames That flicker on white walls Seen this before Knew your face Long before I saw it From somewhere long ago Like waves finally Finding where to land Like the glass When the fog clears
Sitting in the dark Listening to the echoes of your voice Carving the walls As they land Lighting the candle Watching the warmth And light spread Hands on the walls Feeling What hollowed them What built them Hearing As it lands Casting shadows The sounds of the past As they catch up I wonder If it sounds the same now
When the sun shines You’re the silhouette against the sky Blocking the view Changing the world Striking shapes Against the sky Holding my breathe Watching To see if it moves Waiting To exhale To blend into For the layers To fall Into one
