Poetry by Joyce Hida
There are sacraments too holy to perform.
Becoming, one. Division, the other.
Some nights, I miss the quiet mumble of the city priest,
the way his old, blind tongue mistakes fear for praise
and immortalizes both as love.
In this way, we are constantly choosing between divine and divide;
and, in so doing, make our choice.
About the Poet
Joyce Hida is an undergraduate at the University of Pennsylvania, studying English. She has previously been published in Eunoia Review, F-word Magazine, and Theodate Journal.