I start shouting with my hands
but my fingers are bent
like thorns twisted in a crown
no saint ever meant

Once, they held the holy bread
lifted chalice toward the sun
now they clutch at vanished veils
and pray to be undone

I tried to trace the face of God
in candlewax & flame
but the wax just wept & hardened
and God never gave His name

The chapel cracked beneath my feet
its arches bowed with grief
each knuckle sang a requiem
each gesture sought relief

Ave, ave, crooked bones
misremembered rosaries
I counted sins, not beads, & wept
beneath cathedral trees

These hands, apostate scripture
scarred psalms in flesh & clay
I raise them in the vesper smoke
but grace won’t come my way

I start shouting with my hands
reaching past the angel’s descent
But heaven watches, still & cold
and knows not what I meant