Churning, configuring, contorting
as a beetle beneath a boot you,
aching for a breath that flees from you.
A prayer comes down to greet you but
you haven’t a religion
“I am quite hollow; an echo, in the belly of a ship,”
but I do not believe it.
I fold your clasped hands away,
and remove the crucifix around your neck and say:
“Leave it. It is not for you.”
With your dumb feet I
down the road and across the greensward
until your toes
meet the cool water.
I throw an arm out and say:
“Tell your sins to the sea.”
Out you wade, as a
by a dream.
it is a crack of lightning,
that shatters the silence that has kept you weeping.
I hear you say:
“I have been waiting for you…all my life.”
And the ocean takes you away.
I take you home;
and you are smiling. You have finally met your god.