Mirror

I can admit now it was my fault.
Asking why is always the gauntlet throw down.

 Church and State.

Now that was an excuse, a mindset, a state of being. 
So then the church: sacred, vessel, reverent.
So then state: power-hungry, liar, games --me or her?

Church and State.

Mind and body. Peter and Paul.

Yet, still the voice in the back of the mind murmurs 
seperation is the real lie. 

I look in the mirror and a strangers stares back at me.
She is also murmuring into the night, 
running a faded rose-bud rosarie through her fingers.
Speaking a dead language only the righetous know.  

For I have never been the praying kind.