Temple

by Rachel Slover

“David Best’s ‘Temple’ transforms the Renwick Gallery’s Bettie Rubenstein Grand Salon into a glowing sanctuary, offering visitors a quiet place to reflect and pay tribute to lost loved ones. Wooden placards are provided for visitors to write a personal message and leave within the installation.”

Build it. Hoist up the curling walls,

the cascading carved chandelier. For a bit

it is cloistered from the noise.



A couple of years later, take it apart—

the room cauterized, it was only briefly there.

Maybe rebuild it out in the desert,

burn it back out of being—



and being here, it’s breathing in

a shared air. I walk to the altar, climb the steps and

for a moment, the room is just the hollow knock

of my boots up the wood. I peer over the edge—



piles of thin wooden slabs poured over,

I think of wishing wells. They are too far down

for me to read their overlapping asks.



A tiny sign tells us not to write on the walls, though

there is no one who wants to enforce it. People have written

across everything, they brought their own pens, deeper ink.



                                        Bob, you would have loved this

                              Ian it’s spring and we miss you – Mom

I trace the room behind the few others who are here,

we are circling something together. Beside the altar,

the corner is wide enough for me to slide back

into the carving, and I’m back here alone

for a while to feel the walls

hold me at either side.



                    To my boy self,

                    I miss you buddy




And the eyes drawn on the walls, everyone lost

for something is drawing eyes

looking up.

                                       I’m doing my best to let you go

Gasping out from the city center and here

in Washington they crouch behind their walls,

keep making their numbed decisions.



Outside the city is beginning its slow burn.

They are taking the temple down.

It was always meant to be temporary–

a bath of amber light, a break.

I don’t know who I came for.



                    It’s bad baby

                    come back

We are losing sanctuaries,

they don’t wonder how to build more.

 



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