A God that is Yours.

A God that is Yours.

Slender beams of moonlight enter this darkened

church as I kneel, always in prayer, always

alone, frozen here, waiting. Twisted forms

wrought in panes of glass loom as dust dances,

forming an image in my mind,

penetrating my vulnerable flesh.

Blood on a child's face. I raise my head, now

kneeling before this oblivious Limbo