Pump Kin

The will to wish a wall away

spills out like a breath taken from the wind.

Our lungs hold heaven, for just a moment,

then we’re forced to share the air.

A reverent connection, like a candle held

in procession, is our part in the prayer.

The answer, whether flickering,

or beacon, lights the way.

A whisper, like smoke, curls upward,

naming our neighbor, our Lord.

We speak, we listen, we learn,

we focus in, we process out.

Joining the hallowed, in

baptism by Spirit.

The time between worlds

just an eternity among friends.

Will SchmitComment