The Sanctuary

I would like to tell you

About the place beyond words.

How can I even do this?

What sounds can my voice make

That will entice your ears

And the listener listening

What sounds? What words?

May I sing to you?

Imitating bird calls

Without lyric, melody, or stanza

But maybe somehow resembling

A wail, an infant’s cry to momma

In the blue nighttime fog?

Maybe this would move you

Closer to the Sanctuary?

Or rather,

May I scribble shapes upon this ruled whiteness,

In sad approximations of hope Drawing from an inner congregation of shrugging muses

Or can we dance in ovals, Our stumbling foxtrot

Carving trails in the dust

Below our sliding soles

While our gaze, Locked in unison, shields us from onlookers

Like a shared, secret, shroud?

Are we getting closer?

Far above the ceiling and clerestory Of this grand suburban cathedral,

Lacy contrails fail to mark the sky.

Songs fail to play, even as the players sing

Time fails to pass, even as the hours chime

Or rather, Do whispers fail to ruin the silence?