we say –

actually insist.

throw suppositions of know into arenas of disallowed.

our words –

intended bandage for wounds suffered without reproach,

from hands presented as gesture of Christian accommodation.

and while we stand safe –

conveniently clear of any ricochet of insinuation –

the animosity we preach to disallow collects in puddles –

swallows our hope –

quick as ripples of faith on a placid sea of indifference.

what then?

when winds of chaos blow and there is no refuge from the storm?

while liturgies can be heard above the roar of the waves –

still we shiver in the cold –

clinging to the rope of inability –

drifting without option of release in our ocean of discontent.

while there –

just beyond the breakers –

calm,

wave-less sea.

peace we can only imagine –

as we’re dashed without mercy on the shore of doubt –

broken like shells –

empty of all but echoes of prayers –

unanswered –

inconspicuously –

unheard…