Kissing the Divine

 
We were finished.
Money was transferred, accounts were closed.
“Job well done,” we’d said.
 
And then the request appeared,
like a gravy stain on white linen.
Ignorant of our intentions.
 
“But wait. It’s not right,” they protested.
But. Can’t. Should’ve. Won’t.
I feigned politeness in my rejection.
 
They didn’t take it well.
Accusations. Protestations. Begrudging acquiescence.
“It shall be done,” I agreed in martyred surrender.
 
“To serve the Divine,”
the voice through the earbuds said,
“is the highest calling.”
 
Really?
Are you certain?
There is no other way?
 
To forgive,
to apologize,
is as a kiss.
 
And so I apologized,
against every desire of my ego.
And the Divine kissed me back.

If Only

Namaste, he says with a chosen smileScreen Shot 2014-02-15 at 6.22.25 AM
It’s the thing to say these days
when you are secular spiritual
 
Namaste, she replies
trading smug for trite
(though she is better looking)
 
They have the speech
of those in the know
Totes’ he winks
Totes’ she grins
And they move on
Gloating in their rendition
 
If only
If only they knew
If only they knew the gravity of their words
 
To say: Namaste
Is to: Bow to your holiness
And actually did
 
The impermanence of
Saying the right thing
Looking the right way
Knowing the right words
would disappear into white noise
 
Nothing would be left
save for the other
And we would
bow in supreme reverence