I doubt everything,
I ache for faith,
but I doubt everything.
I dreamed of the Sistene ceiling
and I stretched my hands out
without any real effort
to touch (what? The divine?)
Holy dust poured from my hands,
A priest approaches,
He anoints my brow
while chanting:
"Hail Mary, full of grace,
the Lord is with thee;
blessed art thou amongst women,
and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
Holy Mary, Mother of God,
pray for us sinners,
now and at the hour of our death."
The priest is a blur of black and white,
He tells me to repeat the prayer
I cannot will my mouth to move,
He traces the shape of a cross
in the air before my eyes
"May the wordsbe in your hearton your lipsand in your mind"
The priest expects me to speak,
still I cannot will my mouth to move.
I gaze up maybe
the words will come
if I am inspired by
the work above,
But I see a massive mirror
where there was
once an ornate fresco,
I see only
my own reflection
No god, and no Michelangelo.