I don't believe in the Holy Spirit
In your still birds
who with me are always respectful
of prayer.
We are not seen or heard
as you pray rain
all morning starting with
my unbelief.
I don't believe you exist
or that you draw us out to watch
you pour prayer,
that I can't help stand here in it,
that this is the only way to blur
the lines of skin and spirit,
that I want your rain.
I don't believe you fill me
and make my throat ache
afraid I'll never stop if
you begin like this.
But I'll open my mouth
This is my deed, add the belief,
to swallow your prayer
open my mouth
to your breath
the Holy Communion.
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