Sanctuary

A poem.

Another sabbath spent,
muting the impurities
that will soon attempt
to ravage this heart
as they would any other

I anxiously watched
your clock’s hand rotate,
an admission that still
reduces me to shame
I patiently prayed
to show proof of my faith,
an amateur’s attempt
to absolve himself of blame

your seraphs rained fire
upon the meandering soul,
your hymns provided
a hand-drawn map
to a fabled salvation

I sat in your power
present in yells,
present in cries,
in outstretched arms
which severed the skies,
the multitude brought low
in hopes of being lifted high.

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