Sometimes we sit in church and nothing happens. Other times, we are moved by our surrounding and the happenings of the worship. Recently, I was in St. Louis and had an experience that I thought should be shared.
In this poem, I am trying hard to let the experience be greater than my observations. The persona of the poem is describing the scene as it moves closer and closer, from the external to the internal.
You come quietly at first, shake a hand, then bump a chest
or two. The leader looks out and sees another shaking
and invites us all to notice. The hum and murmur
increases as you shake three more over to the right.
Like a church mouse, she starts weeping, then a torrent. We
notice the change. Someone speaks a picture–marshmallows
–getting larger, taking up more space, and another
says tribes and families stretch a tent.
You sit next to me and write a note in another’s ink,
remind me of conversations we had before, and my
eyes well up at the promise.
— Todd Sukany 23 Sept 2012