Faithless

In smoke filled air I stumble,  

through disgraced and unkept memories

of cracked eggshells and clenched fists.

Of sweaty bodies on a blood-soaked mattress

from past slaughters, from sacrifices.

Then the silence in the morning after.

The blazing sun, exposing our shame, our constant hush after the howl.

My heart,

formless, displaced,

after you

after you traced and kissed

the terrible beliefs away

but only for a morning,

only for a night.

Hours, my body spent prostrating,

pleading.

I too believing

that you are the god you made yourself out to be.

You stay unmovable,

unblinking machine eyes,

with your hands around my neck.

My veins, touching and retrieving, in your calloused palms.

You laugh at my faith in the fantasy you built.

The choir’s song halts.

        The stained-glass windows shatter.

Your daughter dies.

What’s left in your grand house but haunting echoes of my lullabies?

of empty hallways filled with self-portraits,

of printed speeches from self-promotions,

of whispers of stories you mastered, recited.

of fictitious days you linger in.

You maim and bury,

then expect gratitude.

I no longer search for air

I no longer scream in an empty valley.

Only faithless,

And unbarred.