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.