As a penitent I bring my prayers to God.
Not because I believe in it,
but because I can not live without it,
God from whom I draw breath for my soul.
I can not witness the beauty of people,
of arbors overgrown with flowers,
the pure rinse of rain falling from heaven,
the love I feel for family and others without
knowing it comes from a different kingdom.
It is my destiny to worship.
To light candles in the dark.
To sing psalms like a chorus of lullabies.
To lift my DNA from dust in triumph.
I am a holy man.
A godchild, naive and innocent.
I need baptism, redemption, patience,
and hold nothing to account except myself.
Dust from which a flower grows
redeeming me with God’s immaculate face