Revival

One day we were healed 
by a man in a tent. 
You remember. We had driven 
streets of Four Castle, 
Pallenfar, Vegas when we saw 
floodlights corral 
starless desert sky. 
Clouds were grain chaff above the city. 

By then we knew 
things we shouldn’t have. 

So we sat down 
on folding metal chairs to the side 
and listened 
to organs and gas generators 
outside the big top. 
This was not our hardwood pew 
our stained glass bits 
of light and shadow. 
We wanted to be unseen. 

But then we thought it was T-Bone
up there waving his arms 
pounding the weekday working blues.
We limped up 
under sweeping searchlights, pain
to the corners of our limbs 
for to save our souls. We were born
again.