11/30/23

Hallowed halls hollowed out by North winds bound for peaks I didn’t know and you didn’t know, won’t know. So I guess it’s we that won’t know. Stray crucifixes and Seraphim feathers litter the pulpit and decorate the pews. Hellfire and sunflame light candles sconced in every nook. What are these cold gusts to a warmth eternal? Leaked, dripped, fused into every floorboard. In this place the stark decor leaves space for the crisscrossing threads of our lives to find one another. This is hearth, haven, refuge. The gaps in my heart eke out into you and yours, hesitant then sure.