Starbucks Sermon

I found soliloquy time space

In the toilet of a starbucks

A spot

Bruised and ripe ready for self-witnessing

There is just my body and i

Me -

She, a universe watching itself

A toilet at starbucks too

Can be a holy place

For though this body be ripe with ache

She houses a whole God who made her

The shapes of my fingers are spread out

Just to cast long shadows against the linoleum

(They are not clasped together

but in some corner of my soul i am praying, I promise

There is quiet worship

Though silent

There be sermon of one)

I haven’t been to church in months now

But lately i have been -

(Itching? Needing? Hungry?) to sit in the pews and cry to my creator

In the language of angels

In tongues carrying babyish shapes

So i might unravel the human edges

Ive failed to keep neat and proper

He knows ive never been good

At being a whole thing

I am so sure He intended for me to be a breaking thing

Which is to say an evolving growing thing

My 6th grade teacher told me once

That if i only just get a little more organized

I can be so -

(good? Proper?)

But God made me a

Boiling tumultuous thing

Wildflowers between cracked concrete

Firecrackers between your teeth

This body houses a whole God

So no she is not made to be organized

Or good

or proper

or human shaped even

she is the shape of her creator

(And so are you and you and you)