She was singing Take me to the Water…
Yes. Take me to the water
with a voice made of glass.
Raise the goosebumps on my forearms,
while leading me to some new resurrection.
The older ladies in silk dresses and straw hats
raised theirs heads above closed eyes
to catch every echo starting from the roots,
Wiped the holy splash and sweat rolling off
Was nineteen (or even earlier),
the last time before I turned
drowsy and uninspired as every reading
turned to just ink stains? I had forgotten
to use four walls, stained glass
windows and incense to meditate
for deeper answers still
untouchable to the wise.
It’s been a week since the revival.
I’m searching inside the new dream I entered
after slumber, but what’s seen and unseen
are talking. Even silence is leaving
a memory for the baptized.