I go here because it is beautiful.
when people go to marbled palaces, spritzing perfume,
I go to this haunting church,
with shattered beams and moldy rose-stained glass.
Here is where I can feel the hum of your influence,
in every crack of decay,
call of the crow,
and unholy vision.
I braid my skin with gold and sea foam
into a tapestry
of roses and seashells
I bring my figurines and runic stones,
and speak softly at your hearth,
scribbling doves into the dust,
and throw the woven art into the flames.
The gods call out,
but it is just a cacophony of futility.
You have shown me the pen and paper,
taken my hand and taught it to flow.
You’ve raised the silver glass
enlightened the perfections.
What better could they offer me?
Oceans and skies? Arrows and wine?
You have fought for me,
sung for my wilted core,
and unfurled its benevolence.
This dilapidated assembly creaks and shudders only for you,
Great moon of myrtle.
Noel Munguia-Moreno is currently a junior Creative Writing major with a minor in Film. His writing comes from the place where horror movies are dreamt of, and caffeine junkies pluck tulips. He stares at walls or watches nature documentaries when he is not writing. Outside of The Sanctuary Magazine, you can find his writing in Essay magazine or written around the rims of old coffee cups.