Togetherness

You pray in perfect sentences

like an architect’s muse has 

grazed each phrase, and I want

to tell you that God prefers 

groans from the deepest recesses 

of the soul. I hate your Pentecostalism, 

believing it’s religious babble 

amounting to nothing, 

but then I remember you 

wept when I did, when friends 

forsook and rejection crowned me

with her withered chaplet, 

I think of when you asked me to

have faith that things will 

work out, though I refused to

believe that such naïve hope

amounted to prayers heard and

shouts of joy, 

you put me before you, 

sacrificed so much, dedicated 

your heart to helping me get better, 

made me chase my dreams 

though failure lurked in the shadows,

coating everything with mildew, 

antithetical to stardust, which

causes one to orbit the brightest stars, 

and I wonder if God has really asked me

to hate someone whose faith doesn’t 

align with mine. Doesn’t she only 

hanker for a better world? Must we

suffer and suffer and only think 

of the world to come? But then 

I contemplate the nature of good, 

Abraham’s confusion, Jephthah’s

sacrifice, and wonder if good that 

predetermines evil and punishes,

and wars with weak mortals is

good at all, I guess the deeper 

questions elude me, and theodicy 

was never my strong suit, but I 

know I cannot stay angry with 

you who shared your home with me, 

and the wealth of goodwill you’ve 

shown me, embracing me when 

everything green fades to blue 

and then black, creates a mild orange, 

a breath, a spark, and though we 

come from different places, seeing 

things from dissimilar vantage points, 

you, a kaleidoscope of beauty 

and I, a dungeon of bleakness, 

I share your beliefs in a weird

sense, and if that isn’t 

love, I don’t know what is. 

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: