Nun of the Above

Unbuckle the ancestors

bring the garden indoors.

Let them see

what we’ve done with the place.

The windows are stained,

pews padded,

statues reformed,

doors bulletproofed.

The baptismal font

sucks plastic

from the ocean

and pepper sprays rapists.

The choir loft links

escalators to Equatorial

canopies, the hymn books

recall the missing birds.

Communion is still

hand to mouth.

Host holds hope

for hostages home.

Scripture, devoid

of opinion, rings

like a dial tone,

faith, voice activated.

Neighborly kindness

pays the neighbor’s rent.

Old timers recognize,

and ask someone

if they’d like a hand

with believing.

Will SchmitComment