Sacred Threads of Silence

You are the pin that holds my holy dress together at

the seams. You are my crown, keeping my thoughts from falling apart.

For you, I'd catch this planet, hold it steady in my palm,

standing barefoot on the stone path, white lilies wrapped around my ankles like promises.

Red seas stain my souls. The church is quiet now. Maybe I'll weave

you a belt of thread. The church is quiet now. Something sacred in

the air instead. When dogs wait to fetch the breeze, old man drops

coins in my pocket. "For love, he says." Between two pillars,