Pillars of Faith - Anonymous


Three blocks to the north of my apartment
on a street punctuated with picket fences
there is a house with purple corinthian columns

Into the summer it’s uncut grass grew tall and soft
and in the golden hour light
the house floated above the emerald sea

In the corner of the East facing porch
next to a tall clear pitcher and silver basin
laid an orange prayer mat with an intricate white design

Every Sunday as I walked with haste
consistently late to my noon shift at work
I would see him there

An old man shrunken with age
bent low in prayer to a great god
murmuring the holy words of millions across the world and through history

As the trees participated in their yearly ritual
casting off their discolored leaves
to be naked in the cold

He wore knitted sweaters
and a maroon hat with a yarn puff on the top
to insulate against the chill

In mid October he moved the mat indoors
by December his lawn had grown brown from the cold
the house stood firm on the ground

But the purple corinthian columns stood bright in the white January snow
the small window below his pointed roof glowed yellow
and I could hear his murmurs in each gust of wind


This anonymous writer enjoys sipping espresso and quietly writing poems in her phone about interesting people. She is in her second year here and hopes to develop the guts to publish her work non anonymously by the time she graduates.