HOUSE

This body is your church
Eyes stained, light filtering
Like fiery rain in the sunrise
Illuminating those fervid words
Etched into the wooden altar
“Ite, inflammate omnia”
Don’t desecrate this church,
Don’t go and taint the holy water
It’s a haven for the heart
Conducting mass below the mural
Of gold-flecked, choral angels
That flutter gaily about
Your God

This body is your church
Chandeliers warm the space
And with their wistful glow
Chase back the demonic winter chill
Cold marble kisses red brick;
To a steady drum beat, anointing oil drips
Don’t scream so, it’s disrespectful,
Don’t demand things of your God
This is a sacred space
Cradle of the Bible,
Sworn to daily
Home for those who have
Nowhere else to go

This body is your church
Pews laid for knees to rest their burdens
And candles lit for bright-eyed mourning
Let heads rest on the rough crimson padding
Of the benches that vibrate with deep
Feeling as the hymns soar overhead
Don’t tear nails ragged into the stations,
Don’t let bitter acid numb the pain
Baptize infant sorrows in the quiet bowl
Rather than nailing them to a cross
Dignity, clad in Easter garb
—white, for joy and gold, for worth—will do it
The priest is a she in my church

If despair brought you here
Dip your head and talk like a prayer
To the one that is with you always
And consecrates this church
You. 
Inhale.
Exhale.
Then, open your eyes
And let stained light raindance across your skin


Addendum:
I’ve always felt that we should be taught to reverence our own bodies in the way we are expected to respect church.