"For where     2   or 3 are gathered together in my name,  I am there among them".      

• Matthew 18:20

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At any given moment there are more prayers than answers and I am wondering around the city centre looking at yet another obelisk - Waypoint of a seafarer back to

Nile merchant ships but there is no river to return to Only the sun gripping the city air Strange lands Made up of too many people 

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A church is any 2 who meet with me along the way

But this hasn’t stopped them from building chapels, monuments and ceilings 

that need an audience of 1 hundred thousand   Higher wayfarer         far out        for purposes unclear   and here in the centre of these lower marshes

The trodden primordial body is suffocating

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The souls of 2 or 3 men and only men    can brush their hands across the cages of the altar

as the schoolchildren’s feet are clanking on the ceiling 

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Later the priests will become children again

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and all children know the way home

all children can build obelisks 

and all children are churches

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a river that will not connect to the shore for a great many years  

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rocks that have not nestled into the coast and shorelines unbroken

are all made of mothers

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At any given moment I am 1 of a half walking alone in a strange city 

where only my mother speaks the language-       holding the bricklayers and the painters

and the men who line the cement ceilings with gold

she is not made of them

she is made of 

only a mother and she is a language onto herself 

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Inside of 2 halves there is only her, holding soil eroding against herself 

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Made of starry compass celestial body and maps too large to be remembered by the many

    Made of music softly ricocheting down these empty medieval streets 

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A church is a mother, 1 mother meeting herself on the riverbank,

holding her child, who is made of herself,

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and gently pushing the  basket downstream. 

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and as she takes her first steps beyond the ocean, there are more hands than needed, 

pushing her forward, so I look away     and turn to the obelisk for a history,

towards myself as a half, and then when I am forgotten and half empty,

She reminds me  

a church is any 2 who meet within me, 

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and I am made of 1000 mothers

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