Heat

There is no stilted sense of holy.
Not today.
No separate, unneeded formalities,
Not stifling sense of "Other."
No, today it is a blanketing quiet.
A still silence in the midst of the shimmering heat,
And the plodding exhausting of the sin-soaked broken.
The Chi-Rho and the Crucifix stand guard over this Outpost, regimental signs.
The marble they hang from is not merely ornamental today, but rather bulwarks;
separating the dirt from the cleaned, the danger from the safety.
The glass shouts, "You are not alone!"
And in the stories it weaves, it offers a binding sense of place, "You are noticed when you go missing," the glass says, "There is One who saves,  One who defends."
And all around is the whispered echo of Time.
Time, saying, you are not alone, you have context and there is one who is Master of all of the chaos out there.
Today, that knowledge is not enough. No, today I am too broken, too tired and dirty, too blinded from the battle and the heat that beats down just past the double doors.
No, today, I need pictures.
Inside this marbled bulwark, it's not even cold. Its relief comes from the contrast with the heat and the smell outside.
And with the quiet- the defense- I find my thoughts wandering to Galilee.

It must have been hot there too.

And for now, with little else to cling to, it is a comfort.