He calls us to remember, the promise we make

The promise we made before we knew the weight of promise

here in this church

On a summer imposter of a Sunday, 

He calls out to all seated in silk and florals

To believe

Another life we have

Far greater and bigger than here

Believe

That goodbyes aren’t goodbyes at all

But see you laters

And endings are really beginnings

The grand start of the real

He calls us to remember

He calls us to stand tall

I ask myself, despite my Catholic upbringing

Despite my receiving of the flesh, despite my prayers and questions with eyes risen

Does this messenger believe that which he speaks?

Do the words roll along his mouth with warm assuredness

A peace knowing

Or does he scare?

Does he ever look at his hands

Raised high and good 

And see uncertain endings

See that at any moment, death can swing between his fingers rendering them still

And then soon gone and just that

Does he ever hear his voice as he speaks to the elders comforted by this message?

Teenagers who see neither endings nor beginnings, parents who walk in and out between

words muffled 

by toothless cries

does he everfrighten for a second, 

and as any living thing

cower to death?

He calls us to remember, faith

Perhaps this is where I see our likeness

Our human need for answers

To believe we can find it all

Our optimistic reasons when we are scared beyond reasoning

When no proven fact exists for us to quote or measure

Maybe that’s where I see him

Hands high

Like my eyes up scanning clouds, no beyond, along powdered blues

Pupil and priest

Two pairs of feet, firm to ground

Hands high, like my eyes

Remember the promise you made

Weight of promise flutters light on faith

Does he scare,

When in-between belief

Doubting thought

An impulsive surge

In my mind and heart

Eyes and hands held high

Needing it to be true

Just as the bird who flies into unseen winds