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Sanctuary
it’s not like he walks on water
or makes miracles happen
every now and then
he never turns water into wine
and no one ever listens to his preaching
but he looks great in sandals
and a robe
I rarely keel before him
(much to his dismay)
yet he has read my mind
and has been known to answer
more than a few of my prayers
and he has taken me places
on Sunday mornings
that only a holy man could
and sometimes late on Tuesday or Wednesday nights
I am his apostle
yesterday he rested
as I watched his breathing
and pretended that I was his slave
and today when he offers me his body
I will accept only too willingly
and melt into the nonexistent halo
that fits him like a radiance of spiritual wonder |