Altar
Some middle-aged woman painted the room
dark purple, placed journals and pens, incense fumes,
white candles, cassette tapes, every kind of crucifix
smart enough to bear a price tag, and an old recliner
she had been trying to get rid of for going on a decade—
If only God were a door or a summer beach or a wise animal,
a cottage we could enter, wipe our feet, take off our clothes,
smell pomegranates, drink tea with lemons floating on the ice
from God who is always eerily quiet like a bourgeois fantasy
what’s important is filling the time slots
a journal entry—God enter me now
Paint the inside of my womb dark purple
write your most thrilling will on my fibula
across the gentleness of my bones
erase and batter all the pages of my words
grind them into paste and infect my mind with
a single truth one thing I should do
one small notice of grace
send me away with fire and threatening voice
and level the ground where my steps corrupted your holy presence
tell me there is no longer a need to stay in this place,
that I am fully created without mistake
that you heard me once and for all
that I must never come back again.
–by Kerri Vinson Snell
*Altar was published in 2013 by Burnside Writers (no longer online).
http://burnsidewriters.com/2013/02/24/altar/
World Without Grace
http://burnsidewriters.com/2013/03/30/world-without-grace/
Evangelism 101
http://burnsidewriters.com/2013/04/21/evangelism-101/
Church
http://burnsidewriters.com/2013/05/04/church/
Flock
http://burnsidewriters.com/2013/06/02/flock/