When I think of us
now, it reminds me of my
old religion:
a devout Catholic Christian.
My hands pressed together
--begging--
with my knees on the floor
for attention.
The light of your glory
hid under a bevy of bushels
--where it's most protected--
at a safe and
comfortable distance;
as the giving of a glow
diminishes its flame,
and the hunger pains for fire
enough to ***** it away.
When I think of us
now, I think of my
new religion:
I sit with palms
open and ask softly:
to be kind and beside me.
I smolder in embers
within a phoenix pyre;
it keeps me warm
and fed and requires
very little:
some feathers, some ash,
my happiness
this was a really old poem that was originally going to be a haiku.... obviously it's no longer a haiku