And we are made in His own image,
Eyes and ears and tongues,
And even the crooked piece of flesh and cruelty,
That we call a smile,
And shoulders sculpted strong to bear heavy weights,
And a thick stalk of a neck so that we can hold our heads high,
He made us all and breathed us alive,
Like the tending of a fire,
All his tiny baby embers,
And then sent us free in a world,
He gave us,
Everything,
And paper words make promises,
And carved initials in church pews,
And “God Bless America”,
And everyone united against…
Something,
Apparently He is everything,
Embedded in my feathery eyelashes,
And the web of skin between forefinger and thumb,
Apparently if I talk He will listen,
Apparently He will give me all I need,
And heal the wounds,
And lick the tears away,
And I have been promised at the foot of altars,
That it would be this way,
But then when I clasped heavy hands,
And whispered my prayers,
When bombs exploded the fragile image of life,
And sarcasm was stronger then truth,
And I couldn’t remember the taste of a laugh,
Why then,
Did all I get was,

silence.