The merciful line up before god
eyes downcast
pebbles underneath their tongues

They offer dirt, glass
and the blood dried 
in the grooves of their soles 							

Sun cuts through stained glass
ignites the perfume and gold
marking division

The priest appears
     a shadowed figure draped in silk
his words pierce the gathered 
and leave no room for doubt

The faithful dutifully sign
across their bodies
and kiss the tarnished crosses
lifted from breastbones

A woman bows her head
remembers her mother’s hands 
palms dusted with tierra santa
cradling her face

She yearns for that kind of sacrament
here in this smoke choked sanctuary 

2 thoughts on “Sacrament”

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