From the Mouths of Lovers and Disciples

I cut my teeth on tragedy bled from unknown lovers

I commit secondhand sins and ask for their forgiveness

I have been taught to love, to grieve, to live, and to breathe

By sinners, by warriors, and by poets

I am a disciple of syllables and syntax, of altruism and anaphora

I write my bible daily

and I read it too

Through irises of poets,

I have watched cinema of relationships

directed by god, cut short by enraged lovers

I have glided from mountains, sprouting wings I could never find

becoming an angel of synonm and power

I have sat next to dying loved ones

without ever knowing their names

I have had the communion of written word

drinking wine of tears and eating crackers that turn my saliva caustic

I take mission trips to the library

and I find new hopes every time

To convert to the Church, all you must do

is practice what you preach, pull a pen, and devour some ink

In the Church of Poetry, we worship gods we've never witnessed

and commit miracles we will never know of