In a quiet, faintly musty, candlelit chapel
the Christian and not so Christian gather
To listen to the breathing of each others’ souls
Voiced over by bits of music from now and then.
Prayers are said which mention anguished claims
of trust which people need, to hold to hope, or
make thanksgivings more than feelings left in silent air.
This a holy time though even “holy” seems a fantasy.
This is different from how we usually live
where things we do and what we think
chain us to a “now” so unrelenting or so dire.
Hours pass without a second thought of who we are.
But here you sit and listen without the need
to do or figure out a problem to be solved.
We simply let ourselves be free to know that One
who gives us life can hear, not merely words but more: our heart’s intent.