One Liturgy Sonnet

The windows are gone and the grass is up

to our knees as we are led to the porch.

Someone tells us over and over stop,

go back to the road, but our path remains:

we can see through the house and out to where

souls collect beside the bonfire pit. Beams

of light turn the pages on the walls. Thin

lines of poetry reach upwards and away

from the dream, but we are called to this

place, one sylllable at a time, one word

on our lips, one liturgy now broken

and another remains high above us:

look down into the dream to hear whispers

you were created to live forever.

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