Battered hymnals agitate restlessness as
glaciers melt into clouds
carving stone across Earth’s face.
Sun over clouds
bruises peopled fields.
as the choir’s amens feed her pulsing heart’s
and she falls to the ground.
Her tongue spews ancient
secrets of serpents and gardens
rich with the soil of everything
that is or is not what it claims to be.
The other congregants call her “the tortured one.”
Afterwards she wakes
to the tremendous weight of
mercy in their eyes.
Free verse for Form Monday at One Stop Poetry. Thank you to Shay for the prompt.