Sanctum

I long for the place of 
Sanctuary in our souls, 
Where wounded limpers
Gather for asylum-
Rallied round the broken hearts
Of people who will listen,
Lend ear to the lonely
And whisper, “Me too.”

I long for the place of 
Mindful refuge,
Where we step inside 
The candle-lit shadows 
Of imperfect reflections-
And in echoing halls of holy spaces,
Make peace with ourselves
And break bread instead.

I long for the place of
Communion in our words,
Conviction in our hearts-
Where we gather round the table,
Kneel at the time-worn altar,
And pray for unity
As madmen cry for
Freedom.

I long for the place of
Creating sacred spaces-
Straddling freeway crusades:
We pitch tent in the median,
Look each other in the eye,
And listen to the fullness 
Of beauty in silence
Of loudness in lonely. 

I long for the place of
Sanctuary in our souls.
Where pain-marked identities
Find freedom in tears.
Where strangers embrace
And both joy and grief,
Love and sorrow,
Sinner and saint,


Find home. 

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