Communion

I touched the sofa
Where once she sat
Reading Emily Dickinson
With candles lit.

Her soul was still with me
Like a sweet dream
Even before I sank
Into sacred sleep.

I don't want to walk through life
Mournfully like an ascetic nun
Living in a cluster
Hidden from the sun.

I have a heart of silence
Gazing at the sunset
Asking for spiritual guidance
And not the ability to forget.

I think you can find God
As easily in a theater as a church,
True religion is the comfort and support
You find in humanity.

I'm going to have to walk
To the corner bar
Or a public park
And find someone
To share the communion
Of conversation.

poem by Uriah Hamilton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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