My community grows out of my hermit cell.

A cell that’s true to me.

Not a cancerous clot of death.

My part grows out of my hermit soul.

A soul that’s bravely me.

Not a shadow play of past.

My voice grows out of my hermit heart.

A heart that melts the ice.
I drop my distant cold attire. 

My road forms in front of my hermit eyes.

My eyes that see immediately. 

When the filter ‘I’ allows.

My church cries aloud a hermit prayer.

A prayer I have heard before. 

But now I choose to listen.

And God takes his hermit back.

His embrace erases all harm.

It’s ‘I’ who leaves. 

But I don’t want to leave anymore.

For I know the difference between death and life. 

And a hermit’s human heart’s home spreads over the horizon.