Belonging to unending conflict
and the sphere of the mundane world, 
we count our money, go about our business,
watch the clock, walk the dog, sleep and rise again
to do battle with the self, ever leaning, inadvertently,
into death, afraid of the holy trinity—
the life, the breath, the spirit waiting
in the one ordinary thing we would make other than
and, ever so polite, avoiding at all costs talk
of politics and God.