In great and humble churches,
the prayers of those on bended knee
remain alive—
floating, as if spun
from invisible gossamer,
in the sacred air.
Steeped in prayers left behind,
the atmosphere hums with their presence.
Devotion, deep and palpable,
hangs like whispers in the stillness.
It is in these churches and cathedrals
that I seek solace:
to sit among the echoes
of those who came before me.
Their voices linger
like unfinished sentences,
waiting for me
to find their thread.
Here, I feel their resonance
and add my voice,
turning toward the Divine
for our shared intercession.
