the marks of abandoned faith
are etched into her flesh
a sheep beneath a lonely flag
a crescent moon hidden under her arm
tattooed remnants of a dead deity
neither of us believe in anymore
with each declaration
of secularization anointing
scarlet lips
i yearn to reach out
with fingertips and rhetoric
to more intimately understand
a dizzying intellect
she shares willingly
a life plagued by faith
scarred by family
trying their best
and failing
miserably
she glances at me furtively
eyes as green as the foliage
of ancient trees
standing watch
over whispering rivers
in silent summers
long forgotten
she holds my gaze
we recognize
ourselves
in one another
there is trust
and intimacy
solidarity in suffering
she smiles
when she thinks
i'm no longer looking
After presenting papers at a conference, I had a random conversation with a classmate and colleague about life and death and religion and purpose and I was struck at once by her intellect and her eyes.