I am the sacrifice.
When the priests built the temple, I was buried
under the foundations. I lay
at the gates of the building site,
asking for death. I said,
If I have to die to be here forever,
let me go slowly. Cut
my wrists and hold me in the river.
Let me fade with the whack of jackhammers,
the accented shouts, the slap of the water,
the volley of seabirds, and all the angels.
Now my blood is the river,
my body the foundation
of the temple made of the love
of so many. Our spirit sang it.
I am the spirit of all of you.
You safekeepers of the holiness!
The holiness that doesn’t see itself.
Even when the river reflects the temple —
the focal point, where I died to be —
the holiness can’t see itself.
But I hear it.
I am you. I am your love.
I wander through the chambers,
seeking and healing, saying
Hear the holiness, be it, use it!
Warm the blind temple with the breath of love
in all its glorious frequencies.