What would it be like
to form a new language of faith
not based on a single story.
not told only
by affluent old white men,
but welcoming
a multiplicity of voices?

What would it be like
to speak in a language
of hope and despair
certainty and doubt,
and ambiguity,
of black and white
and not only
every shade of grey between,
but also
every hue
of every color
as well?

What would it be like
to take this language
outside the hallowed halls
or church and school
to the ice cream stand
where father and daughter
have soft serve cones,
a swirl of chocolate and vanilla
celebrating a good day,

And even
in those trying meetings
where people struggle
with finding better ways
to communicate,
collaborate,
rejoice,
and despair?