We acknowledge gods we know
in passing, leant their blessing,
helped keep messy jobs clean.
I draw the moving X from ears
to eyes to intersect just above
the imperfect star and look away
to hillsides greening, ridgelines
high into the blue. Blinders on,
I focus and squeeze as the knees
buckle and I can breathe, red
gushes upon alfalfa upon fresh
green—life old and new remain.
No wonder it was a grand reunion
of all my dead friends just before
I awoke, hugs and laughter,
random glasses tipped to eternity.
No wonder I believe in gods
that can take me where I want to be.
drycrikjournal 