Holy Water
Blinded by darkness I am here solely
For the water. Memorized ritual
Though not god-fearing. Father, son and holy,
Forehead, shoulders. Only by habitual
Observance. I
gripped my plastic bottle
Under the silver cistern, that looked like
A Gatorade dispenser. Comical.
No orange slices. No mystical magic.
Fever, chills, her soft crying in the night.
Pain and fear, cool water from the bottle
Small arms, legs kicking. Pneumonia incites
Blessed water. Forehead, shoulders. Possible,
The ritual remembered, mystery unknown.
Father, son and holy. Temperature drops down.
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