Sanctuary by Byron Hoot

The sanctuary of a bar

is something the right kind

of theologian would know. . . 

how entering is stepping

over a threshold, how the conversations

are prayers, the libations

sacred elixir, the breaking

of bread an act of communion

made in-between laughter

and sighs, stories of joy

and sorrow

                   where the art

of forgetfulness -- God's own

art -- is practiced for awhile

and the liturgical response, "One more"

is absolution for all that can't

be absolved.

                     Like all things religious, however,

it can be taken too far

and sanctuary becomes bedlam

of heart and soul and body

and mind just like any other

sanctuary can become. . .

                                           though like all

theology "Last call" is but

a temporary closing of the doors.

Byron Hoot was born and raised in Morgantown, West Virginia, lived there until he went to college – a twelve year excursion.  He never returned to West Virginia but he never left it.  Appalachia, the hills and streams, the people, his memories of those first eighteen years are  embedded.  Now he lives in northwestern Pennsylvania. . .  still in Appalachia.

            He has recently had poems in The Watershed Journal, Tobeco Literary Arts Journal, on www.northsouthappal.com./appalachian-literature.html. and in Pennessence.  He is a co-founder of The Tamarack Writers (1974) and The Fernwood Writers Retreat (2019).