When you unlock me I am frightened,
Made of glass that I fear will shatter on my tongue when we are
close,
But you are my beginning
My big-bang,
The theory that created a million church-window colors,
Depicting scenes of forgiving saints and tragic lovers,
Draped in robes of garnet red, soft brown and fern green,
Hopeful that I can unlock once more,
To you, who sings hymns of adulation.
To you, who waits with a key.
You make me pray.
Like Cleopatra and Caesar,
Cursed paramours falling,
Shattering glass, tearing murals,
Their shards and threads sparkling in my curls,
Amica mea,
We are golden and bright when I unlock,
And I feel,
You are the vivacious theory that created everything.
Lauren Mueller, ’27