conversations, you and I,
and still you refuse to
change.
are these whispers or
prayers?
how often we say flesh.
how often we say spirit.
the arguments keep piling
up,
the excuses forming walls.
accusations are flung from
the towers.
we need more watchmen on the
walls.
hand them trumpets and
torches,
let them hail strangers and
guard the gates.
we have invited guests
carelessly.
i have no idea whose side
they’re on.
something sniffs around your
door.
i tell you the room is
haunted.
you tell me you speak with
ghosts.
i no
longer recognize these voices.
