I never found God in church.
I found God in high places.
In the tops of trees,
where the wind would whisper Ave
and stir strands of spirit
in the corner of the soul.
I could feel life in the bark under my hands,
growth in the strong branches,
embracing like a lover's arms.
I found God in the endless nights.
When black-hearted fear and pain
had wormed their way into my chest,
gnawing, their poison spreading, their weight crushing,
till the tears came.
No flash of light banished them.
but there was peace amid the pain,
as my soul quieted
comforted by the language without words
that is true prayer.
I found God in the spaces between my fingers,
when I reached for a stranger's hand.
There I touched the beautiful spirit of life
that threads our clumsy clay bodies together.
Of all the things this world defiled,
Love, most slandered of all,
rose there, quietly, softly,
unencumbered by desire or greed,
as it was meant to be
from the start.
A kiss may bruise just like a sin
though sinless lips
have found their mark.
The sin is not a cast from grace,
but oh, in hell, it seems I walk.
These quiet sins God never said
were to damn us, but yet,
that I have damned myself.
With a kiss, a kiss.
I have damned myself.
Because I did not love thee,
yet here, here,
I've bruised thee
with a kiss.
I let beautiful things break my heart.
Acoustic guitars, boys with sad voices.
My own eyes.
Memories of long gone men and
clouds on nights when there should be stars.
Lonely places, and lonely people.
Kind hearts and gifts to freely given.
at all the beautiful mosaic shards.