*

*

I am from a no-God home with

a philosophical father

who lectured in ponderous tones

a mother who only liked Christmas

because her father was Italian.

*

I am from a visit to an Italian hospital

where the winged blue nuns

sifted through peaceful sunbeams.

I am from 11 years old longing for that cloistered peace.

I am from a knowing there was more than

the right pleated skirt, the red ribbed sweater.

*

I am from a meditating neighbor whose

tiny apartment hummed with a velvet love

that I coveted, and so learned the practice.

*

I am from locking eyes with a living saint

whose gaze changed me forever.

Slight figure in orange robes, she opened

my first chakra and my heart.

*

I am from chanting God’s names

with a thousand souls

the rising divine vibration of the universe.