Excommunicated. 

  

(For the beautiful Miss S., and all of us who are trying to find our way.) 

EXCOMMUNICATED 

Remember when your name was a prayer on my lips?

I screamed it in ecstasy

I cried it in despair.

I whispered it hopefully in the dead of night. 

Remember when my prayers were answered because there was you and I believed? 

Remember when your body was the temple I worshipped at?

Your thoughts were the the scripture I committed to my memory and learnt off by heart.

All your rituals and all your ways.

The infinitesimal things that made you so much more than the sum of your parts. 

You were my religion, the one true path to paradise and my heart sang, full of hymns to you. 

I kept the faith. 

Who knew that the baptism of fire would come at the end? 

Now I hope that like a pheonix I will be reborn.

Find within a sanctuary, be my own refuge.

Because all I have left to believe in is me.

But I haven’t practised in a while. 

  

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Comments on: "Excommunicated. " (4)

  1. And we are learning, Kate. We are. We are learning that culture does not have to define us, that we can grow beyond expectations. We are learning to be who we are.

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