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Copyright Jordan Davis.


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wThursday, November 04, 2004



In the chapel under the sanctuary the light
Comes through some lesser scenes, then heavy
Curtains as it shines up the dust in beams.
I run up the inclined aisle, then slowly
Make my way toward the altar and choir,
In miniature of the room above I always imagine
Much bigger than it is. In the sanctuary I sang,
Heard my own songs, was blessed, even learned
The West Virginia handshake -- stamp your foot
As you push your arm down. Stacks of
The Upper Room wait in sitting rooms
Off every hallway. It is, maybe, my template
For heaven. It is absolutely empty,
And I run, listening to my dress shoes echo.

posted by Jordan #