I’m going to pray with my whole body.
I don’t mean snake-handling
sanctifications in a wood’s hollow nor torso-rolling,
arm-waving hollering on a carpeted aisle.
No, God of dark matter
and everything in between, I’m going to concentrate
every particle of my being,
each neuron-strumming molecule, each cell
pitching and sliding beneath the cloak
of my skin
in a rib-tingling, knuckles-humming, heart-tilting
make of this flesh-in-air a window seen through
to that countenance of love shining
its ordinary face.
The Image archive is supported in part by an award from the National Endowment for the Arts.