Edifice of Fists

My heart trebles and drops at
the bubbling under of a tabla’s
tender thunder, my chest a treasury
plundered by deities in the guise
of thieves, a conspiracy of spirituality
replacing what I never needed with
peace my grief sought to hide
behind its gridiron web of ribs,
keep discreet, separate from the highwaymen
of my thoughts riding my panic’s
neural network to give my head
death’s costume instead of this white
flag these visitors together each spread,

my prison fills with light, and
I am again my own friend,
fearful of nothing but forgetting to
give thanks for so great a
gift as this, to have constructed
within by hands of air a
temple love fires incense with, these
vagabonds my own versions, editions of
my Self, avatar images of the
divine I too long denied my
kiss, prayer’s breath enough to collapse
this edifice of fists, sacralizing negative
space, my sin’s eclipse penance sanctifies.