Father speaks of a home yet

to come. Praise is continual 
sacrifice—I dream of Isaac 
on the mountaintop, Abraham
knowing He would provide, but
did He? Of course—us children
of the light bringer follow
our pain into dark valleys and wonder
why it adopts us. We listen, Father says,
so we can hear God listening back.
If salvation flooded the streets,
would we drown, or float, weightless,
in the storm of what is sacred and chosen?
Father defines holiness as being set
apart, but then, the Lord must be lonely
amongst creation—just a field
of mockingbirds and warped
mirrors—speaking only in whispers
to the oathbreakers.