Church

In times of trouble

I go to my church

I go to my grave

To gain perspective

This sepulcher of salt from which all life was made

And she listens without judgement

and she always tells me

be still

as she crashes around me 

relentless

So i grabbed the bones of my hips

i flex feet relaxed 

and stand

and hold up the sky

until it feels just like air again

and she crashes against me

relentless

And I am forced to learn what I am made of

Again and again 

like a sermon

I listen to her silence

and in the salt I am reborn

carve nothing on this grave