(ps) at the farmers market, little italy.
i sat on the curb eating a vegan black bean tamale with jalapeno salsa and thought of my aunts and tfc and eventually my father. i stepped into the our lady of peace church on the corner of first and cedar.
i made the necessary motions for entry into a catholic church, but i know they were only triggered by a nostalgia buried deep somewhere in my muscles, so that was okay.
our conversation was brief, mired by a small group of voices reciting the lord’s prayer to my left and the resounding echoes of a couples’ thousand kisses four pews ahead of me.
we didn’t speak of life, nor death, nor of saving anyone’s soul, especially my fathers’. we did speak of an awakening, though, and, at the very least, a falling into place of an unknown number of situations that would grant the recognition of divinity in one’s Self. Divinity at the Core, without any pretense.
i don’t think i asked for anything, either. and i don’t think it was a conversation, really. this was a dialogue in my head taking place with a voice i identify as me, and there were no answers, no responses. No thing. Every thing. And it was divine.