As children,
we would pass our hands
through alter flames.
Letting splinters cover our finger tips
from gripping the back of church pews.
Now myths
hold heavy hands on bibles
stained with the grit of human filth.
We are all the gods
the world will ever know.
The presence of absence looms over us,
when gods cast big shadows,
and the space of faith is not fillable.
May 8, 2016
May 8, 2016 at 11:22 PM UTC
As children,
we would pass our hands
through alter flames.
Letting splinters cover our finger tips
from gripping the back of church pews.
Now myths
hold heavy hands on bibles
stained with the grit of human filth.
We are all the gods
the world will ever know.
The presence of absence looms over us,
when gods cast big shadows,
and the space of faith is not fillable.
