The Interfaith Chapel is in the South Terminal
The intercom tells me where to go:
up the elevator and down the narrow corridor
into the sanctum of the interfaith chapel,
where the stained glass catches the nondenominational light
and spreads it around
in some interfaith way.
Hanging on the wall, yes, there is a wooden cross
but also an equilateral triangle of aluminum
and a parallelogram made of brass,
and now it is an undiscriminating kind of peace
that begins to spread
across the causeway of my heart;
peace over my runways;
peace creeping into my terminal; peace
up into my observation tower—
I have a growing urge to
get down on my undereducated knees
and make an intersupplication
to a nonspecific supreme being—
and to her or him or it I say
my mind is broken;
I’m tired of being a prosthesis
for perpetual motion.
I will surrender all my frequent-flier miles
if you will help me
to find my tears and drink them.
If you will help me to reach that place
where I am already
awaiting my arrival.
Tony Hoagland, “The Interfaith Chapel Is in the South Terminal” from Turn Up the Ocean. Copyright © 2022 by the Estate of Tony Hoagland. Reprinted with the