Prayer

My body is a temple,

and you knew that so you left your shoes outside.

 

You walked in barefoot, and I thought you were being

vulnerable, because we leave our deceptions behind

temple gates, right? You skimmed my walls with your fingers

with every parikrama that you took around the deity

that was my soul, as if the inscriptions imbibed in them

since the beginning of time, made any sense to you.

You chanted mantras which resonated through all

parts of me, weaving, braiding through the ringing of bells.

They say that the vibrations of these shlokas make the air

around pious, and I thought you were only distilling purity in me

with your condescending voice, as if I were a mere room

and you were what made me a temple. You touched your head

to the ground, before me and I could feel the hot and the human in it

seep into me; your forehead was semi permeable and it let all

its arrogance, and anger, and selfishness  filter through to me, until I brimmed

of all things unholy. And then you looked right at me as if you had never

poked another soul until it oozed out all emotion with

the same brown, unapologetic eyes, as if shame, even just an ounce of it,

was prohibited to be vested in you. The chants and the ringing

was slowing down and the lull was getting louder and louder,

until silence vibrated violently through every room of me.

You joined your hands one last time, and I could see my innocence

choking from between them,

and then you left.

 

I knew it when you left your shoes outside

that you aren’t here to stay,

but my body is a temple –

 

it is open for all, I cannot shut out only those

who sin.

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2 thoughts on “Prayer

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