3/14

Lately God and I, we haven't been
on speaking terms
I mean if lately can mean
since the night I stopped trusting these hands of mine,
the night you finally
collapsed
into a string of notes and restless poetry
where I found you outside, a sodden
mess of pins and needles –the little
disappointments life allotted us, you said.
I always feared one of us would die young
and you raised your arms to the sky to feel
the rain against your skin, this is
being alive, you said,
wet and desperate

but it's better than the alternative

you blinked
enough to crumble my reply
and in the heavy rain-soaked air a church bell chimed
you turned to the sound
stood as still as a cross
until that moment I never stopped praying

you can't know that