Where Soldiers of the Soul Come to Pray
—after “Who Is in My Temple?”
The dark rooms of my mind
Resembled a ramshackle cabin
Abandoned in the river
Left to invading rodents,
Birds building nests in its loft.
Where did this light come from?
Who is this that without hands
Has flipped on the light,
Cleared out the rodents,
And caused to scurry all the dim birds
That long held court in this fluttering space?
Who has transformed this tumbledown cabin
Into a fine temple where the soldiers of the soul
Now come to pray?
Linda's Literary Home 