Anxiety and fear, mercy and bliss.
It’s lying to yourself until the needle of Truth pierces your life and stitches you whole.
Spirituality is doing the dishes and looking for your phone.

Spirituality is how you touch yourself in the hot water at the end of the day
fingers into crevices remembering home in fluid.

It’s divorce. And replanting trees where they get more sun.
It’s summer in your chest from a single moment of selfless giving.
It’s so quiet, spirituality. It’s cranked.
It does not have its shit together, and it is right on time.

Spirituality drops everything meaningless for the value of friendship.

“Just let everything else fall apart so we can hold on to each other’s hearts,” said Spirituality.

Dirty. Obsessive. Deeply concerned.
Spirituality is crying in the kitchen for the state of the world,
and walking down the street bereft AND AMAZED.

“I pray you will see what I see and be free. I believe in your eyes,” said Spirituality.

She believed she would be victorious in her rage,
then chose to forgive—every single one of us.
She atones. He atones. They atone.
Spirituality is at one with itself, which was never divided to begin with.

Scabs, shame, transmutation, wet kisses, the holy cross, desperation. Presence.
The birth canal. Everything it took to get there and everything it takes. Patience. Right here, right now.
She takes them in. He is poor judgement. They are refined wisdom.
Spirituality makes mistakes and corrects them all with Love, like they never even happened.
Time bender, that one.

There is a rose oil from India that’s put into clay pots and buried in soil for ten years.
That’s spirituality.
There is a man in the alley shooting up, chasing euphoria because anything other than that is a hellish lie.
He is spirituality.

Spirituality is self-hate, the harming father, the lonely bride,
every broken pot made new in the Light, glorious!
Redeemed with care
ecstatic to exist…

Holding grudges until your beauty calcifies.
Mirror images,
Veronica wiping the blood and sweat from the face of Jesus The Christ,
punk rock mother fuckers,
coming home to your Mother.
Spirituality is The Mother of All Mothers—
the gentle destination, the fierce clarification.
The Hot Mess and the Holy Order.
Extinct and being born.
Attack and medicine.
Bitter. Better.
Essential miraculousness. Timeless eternity.
Spirituality is grocery shopping for God,
you and me… holding hands… at war,
learning to love our way into being home again and again
until we all get this spirituality.