One Liturgy Sonnet
The windows are gone and the grass is up
to our knees as we are led to the porch.
Someone tells us over and over stop,
go back to the road, but our path remains:
we can see through the house and out to where
souls collect beside the bonfire pit. Beams
of light turn the pages on the walls. Thin
lines of poetry reach upwards and away
from the dream, but we are called to this
place, one sylllable at a time, one word
on our lips, one liturgy now broken
and another remains high above us:
look down into the dream to hear whispers
you were created to live forever.
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