Do not make homes out of people, they warn me, so I make a sanctuary out of you. I don’t return to you everyday, and you aren’t my instinctual safe-house but you are welcoming even when I have sinned – especially when I have sinned.

There is grace and purity in you, and being around it relieves me. I thank the people who said not to make homes out of people, because I never want to feel claustrophobic or alone when I’m with you. I never want to be separated from you and suffer from being home-sick. I never want to have to leave you behind and then rebuild you. 

I want you to be the steady point of my life, the stabilizer, the safety net. I want you to be wherever I go because I always need an escape and you are my refuge, my hideaway.

The feeling of divine love is multiplied in your presence, and I take off my shoes to walk on the sacred ground around your heart. You let me in to the shrine of your mind, and every now and then, I bring you statuettes of votive offerings. I don’t want to walk away having left only my problems with you. 

You aren’t a temple no, nor an object of worship – we both have our own Gods.  But when the religious heads can’t contain me, and I’m looking for shelter, I come to you.

I come to you because sometimes I’m homeless and I need a place to stay. I need a listener for my stories and a holy person for my confessions.  I come to you because I feel safe – because if nothing else, I know one thing about the world, and that is, no matter how cruel people can be, they don’t dare touch schools, temples, and sanctuaries.