You were my religion
but I didn’t know it then -
too busy worshipping
your sacred lands
by candlelight -
our halos reflecting
softly in the frosted
bedroom window panes
of an underheated flat.
God’s name was
exclaimed often
during fervent
crusades of love -
as we designed a new liturgy
with sacraments far holier
than any church or priest
could ever hope
to piously conjure.
The shrine of memory
holds you captive now –
haunting visions nimbly dance –
between the embers
of lost passions embracing
relics of spent desires –
remnants still offering
modest prayers
of thanks.
N.T. Chambers has led an interesting life before becoming a writer. Among many jobs held were: cab driver, bus driver, sales drone, pizza deliverer, wine merchant, improv actor, editor, educator, professional counselor, and, of course, every writer's "go to" job - bartender. The author’s works have been published in the following magazines and journals: “Grassroots,” “In Parentheses,” “You Might Need to Hear This,” “The Elevation Room,” “Wingless Dreamer,” “Months to Years,” “W.E.I.R.D,” “New Note Poetry,” “Bright Flash Literary Review,” “Quibble,” “Indolent Books,” “Banyan Review,” “Inlandia,” “The Orchards Poetry Journal,” “The Decadent Review,” “Share Literary Journal,” “Bluebird Word,” and “Red Coyote.”