When You Come to Worship

Peel me back,
let the choirs clean the dust from my lungs
if only so I can exhale a 
hallelujah.

Turn my body into hymnal and run your fingers free form over the notes.
I want to be more than a crescendo.

Make sure the light reflects the stain glass rainbows on my pages.
Make sure I am held like lamb,
but revered as lion.

Hear the choir sing:
“Kingdom come,
kingdom come.”

Let your mind roll under the pews like lovesick children.
Let your knees crack the prayer bench.
Let my tongue be your altar,
and I will gently
throw you down.

An echoing aria,
Holy Ghost, God, and Son.
Hail Mary when she recites the only abiding truth written for the likes of us:
we
are more than than holy,
we
are the life blood.

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