Gordes, France: L’Eglise Saint Firmin
Little Village Church.
Inside a visceral haven for spiritual worship.
Frizzled lips and chiseled hands.
Nose in a blizzard fire,
heart swollen from a tender
Touching and pouring the energies of
God. Pattern Riddles. Floral Swirls collide
with our colors. It knows we
are not perfect. Of different shades
and textures and depths. Densities.
Saturations. Yet a Being yearns to be near us
in a sanctuary that’s charm is its complexities.
Its chipped prints. Its cracked walls
Come, be flawed with me beneath unrest.
Contributor: Elisha Nain
Copyright © 2015 Elisha Nain. All Rights Reserved.