When you spoke Hebrew down my spine and whispered Deuteronomy into my chakras, into my infallible soul, I found grace. Hallelujah, you slithered through my arteries like the serpent of Eden, and I loved it. You crushed my spirit like Revelations, like trumpets and judgement, and I grew from the rubble. I’m still growing. Finding solace in my descent from the Rapture. I pray with hands full of charcoal and ashes, may you find my message in the displacement of your salvation. You used to love me like Old Testament covenants, like the original Ten Commandments, but you let me fall. I broke on impact. Tell me, how did you love me again. How did you love me when you rebelled against me? I gave you this promise land, made this land yours for generations to come and you deserted me. Tossed me aside like a pagan, crucified me upside down, whipped me across my chest and still told me “I love you.” But I grew from your interrogations, from your crusades. I used to find love in your religion, in your dogma, in your morality but I’ve found more solace in myself than in your institution.
When you spoke Hebrew down my spine and whispered Deuteronomy into my chakras, into my infallible soul, I knew that I had to find myself within and not outside. This is my soul, my synagogue, church, temple. In me is God. I tried to find blessing through you, from your love. Not knowing that my love would suffice as a sacrifice to the Most High. I speak now. Through my body and into my memories, I recite the epics in rhythm, rhyming scheming. All because I’ve found myself.