i don’t feel God when i go to church.
i don’t feel spirits rise and sink
within the marrow of my bones and
blood of my veins
the way the priest says
i should.
sometimes, though,
when i’m being blanketed
in salty sheets of ocean that cuts out the coast
of my home,
the sinking sun paints the sky
with the pureness of pastels.
i allow the tide to move me
the waves carry me.
and sometimes
they carry me to God.