I Held My Breath As We Do

What Can We Do About God, Who Makes And Then Breaks Every God-forsaken, Beautiful Day?

One Day You Finally Knew What You Had To Do, And Began.

The Stars Began To Burn Through The Sheets Of Clouds, And There Was A New Voice Which You Slowly Recognized As Your Own.

You Do Not Have To Be Good. You Do Not Have To Walk On Your Knees For A Hundred Miles Through The Desert, Repenting. You Only Have To Let The Soft Animal Of Your Body Love What It Loves.

Listen--are You Breathing Just A Little, And Calling It A Life?