We crave transcendence,
but fear our own death.

We shout Hallelujahs,
from mouths of deceit.

A walk in the woods,
our way to enlighten.

As if we could ride,
the wings of a hawk.

We chant in our sleep,
words without sense.

Shaved heads and red robes,
us become them.

We want perfection,
but reject our own flaws.

Barbed-wired protects
our neighborhood Mosque.

We put up walls,
when we should tear

Them down.

Susan Ward Trestrail, 2016


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