i stumbled across the gallery
and through the doors of a chapel.
its ceiling was blue -- like heaven, i guess.
its stained-glass colours were artificially lit
and i didn't think much of that.
i turned to leave
one voice, reaching from behind,
catching my hand:
it turned me around.
a choir of voices testifying,
swelling and filling the chapel
i ran out of that little blue sanctuary,
found a bathroom stall,