Chapter 9
A PHOTOGRAPHY
Religious poems
Take a picture of my soul,
Oh, photographer with a face unseen.
Your camera hides your gaze whole,
No one knows what your face might mean.
You know, you're a mystery to many,
But take photos of the buried plentyâ
My nightly tremors and dreams so deep,
My loves found, my loves lost, I keep.
Speak to me about your needs,
Should we stand or sit, indeed?
You stay silent, weaving your art,
Sculpted like your fingers, sharp as a dart.
In pressing, you capture what's true,
Me, you, lifeâall shining through!