The soles of my sandaled feet
maneuver lumps of brick as if by rote
and I am compelled to face the square.
Almost noon on Sunday,
I seek the impromptu mall
of Tarot readers and caricaturists
where palmists merchant to St. Peter,
each an homilist to the choir of steel drums
tinkling near the alley.
Alternate drummers motion bills and coins
into the walled cache of a tattered suitcase.
Tall arched doors spill into
the welcoming flicker and scent of melting wax
as an older woman enters,
the heft of her rosary bending her
near genuflection.
Familiar passages resonate;
memories lead to Sacraments.
Questions filter through me like confessions,
and I note what lingers of my faith.
Still.
I feel too guilty for Communion.
Bless me Father, for I have sinned.
Even as I turn to You,
my right toe numbs
and my ear begins to itch.
My ******* constrict
and my throat presses into the wet.
Inject me, Father, with Noah's syringe –
the one that jazzed him
to build that floating zoo –
that I may track my path before the Rise.
Or, let me don Your priestly robes,
and turn some wine to Corpuscles
divined to see beyond my own plank
or preach the Beatitudes to yawning zealots.
Is there a mirror on that altar?
As the cathedral entrance closes,
I am who I am
—and I am not worthy—
standing my shadow's length
from the shallow steps.
Azaleas blooming at my back,
I remember when religion grew within my mind
fed weekly by carvings on a chalice
in a chapel on Esplanade left to nature post Katrina.
Spanish moss greys the white beard of God
where the dome of the fresco fractures.
Phalangeal hues of sun
eclipse the floating dust
from breaks in stained glass stations.
Masses of blackberry and kudzu
drape a pregnant mass
over the sculpted marble of the cross.
The chiseled palms of Christ extend as
ropes of growth unravel from His Torso
like a figment of my reconciliation.
Vines fall to form a brambled crown
atop a broken stone
between the great doors
where the Bible swells open.
A version of this poem has been previously published in the anthology Louisiana Inklings: A Literary Sampler (29 October 2013).
*"Sanctuary" was featured as Poem of the Day and added to the Poetry Club on Scriggler.com
An exploration of faith abandoned when subjected to the nature of religion.
