churches―

where cracks on the ceilings are more than construction accidents,
whose floor has seen more discarded invitation letters than dustbins.
the out-of-tune ***** is where the nameless ghost resides
(the one who roams the halls whispering quiet conversations) /
the carpets are imprinted with bruised knees indentations,
the mirrors, with sobbing hunched figures reflections,
and the cement that echo wailed prayers muffled by layers of epidermis and cartilage.

hospitals―

where red stains on the walls are more than careless spillages,
whose rooms have seen more regret than those in Court.
the morgue holds motionless bodies ice cold to the touch
(those who are in line to enter Heaven’s gates) /
the waiting rooms are filled with wilting flowers,
the beds, with saturated salty tears,
and the emergency rooms that cradle desperate On The Knees begging and gasping heartbeats.