I can hear the cold air
Slowly moving through the vents,
The warmth slowly slipping away
Through cracks in the door,
Racing up into the atmosphere.

I can hear the persistent humming,
An air-conditioning unit hidden away.
Why not control what we can?
Does He not control?
Are we not made in His image?

I can feel my breath,
Cold like a mountain stream on a summer morning.
A narrow brick walk,
Cutting through the overgrown grass,
Sprouting between two buildings.

I can feel the tension
Settling into the room
Faster than the afternoon
Storms sweep across the harbor.
I wish I could still see the blue sky.

I can feel the weight of your stare,
Falling onto me like a wall of water
Crashes onto the white corals below.
The dead sand dollars breaking,
Millions of white grains like diamonds illuminating the night.

I can see the fear,
Written on your face
Like a bush with book pages for leaves.
The tremble of your lip
Before the water runs.

I can sense something is not right,
My mouth, my hands, the vents of my mind...
I wish I could see the sky.