“Call to Me, and I will answer you, and show you great and mighty things, which you do not know.”

It is not spoken but sewn

Stitched into the fabric of my families souls

The belief taking them to the present state

Where eyes are closed and hands are held

An aroma of Christmas dinner sits at the table

Listening to the wants and wishes of my relatives

A promotion, some sunny days, and a hint of romance for the youth

“...and continue to watch over us, in your name, amen.”

I don’t pray anymore

God seemed to be sold out when I came crawling, my tears as currency

Maybe they would pay for a solution to my problem

Or a throne for God to sit on and watch

Watch my therapist excuse my depression as the devil

Watch me spit out pills I wanted to swallow

Watch my mother deny my mental illness

Watch me sit in a pew and pray for the final time

My last prayer is to ask for an apology

From a bystander, on his hands and knees

Slobber from sobs dripping into his mouth

To muster up the “I’m sorry” I will never forgive