God is
What you see
With your eyes closed
In a warm dark room

God is
Everything you know
On the inside
Of the womb

God is
All that you begin to forget
With each drawn breath
Until you try hard to remember

Or die.



To keep vigil

Is to reside in the land of now,

In sitting beside the birthing of death

The luxury of one’s almost infinite laters

Makes itself as apparent as mortality.

All I need to do is be present

To hold a spotted hand, so soft,

To smooth a furled, cooling, brow,

Until the present becomes the past.

I can do the dishes then.