The radiant resonance called out to my heavy heart. But he remained still, hidden. Not fear, nor stealth. In holy observation. The calculated indifference of selfless, selfish prayer received, but did not reply. Forever and always vigilant, he knows the devil kisses with the same lips that speak the divine truth. To distinguish them, to filter, is not faith. It's a skill. Not bestowed. Trained.

"Do not remain seated!" The father spoke through a son of sons. "There's something here. Something in the air. God has graced us with his presence! Courtesy in the house of the Lord! Stand! Raise your hands! And let the Lord speak!"

Passion wasn't a strong enough word.

Voices raised in unison, crying out through the known and unknown alike. Hands yearning to grasp the bars of pearly gates so far, far out of reach. That did not dissuade them.

I remained seated. Two eyes closed. One eye flickered. The requiem pierced my ears like a bullet and reverberated beyond the network of ganglia and grey matter. Something deeper, something that becomes nothing when permitted to be something. My hands clasped together with the tension once belonging in my shoulders. The signal is real, but its source is contested.

"Praise be to him!" one shouted.

"Worthy is the lamb, worthy is the lamb!" one sang.

I doubt he could carry a tune in a bucket.

A sudden echo in the darkness behind my eyelids.

Dissonance. Distraction. Threat. Return. Continue.

Attention returned. Fleeting still.

"Worship in his name!"

Which one. Many names collapse to one but never none. My many thoughts swim like river fish. Once here, once swept away.

A woman collapses at the altar. Rivers flow from her eyes and through the valleys of her face. She has died today. Born tomorrow. And will die again. And again. And again.

Questions evade her because the answer stands obvious. But so does the lie told one too many times.

And yet.

I trust her.

I trust that a death at the feet of the Lord is worth a thousand lacerations. Worth two planks and three nails. Worth the history that led her to the present.

But she will pray for a future past.

I will remain present.