it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah

[poetasterie]

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry.

I am so sorry.

But I'm doing the best I can. I'm doing everything I can.

"Bury this bone
to gnaw on it later,
gnawing on the telephone.
And til then, we pray and suspend
the notion that these lives do never end.

And all day long we talk about mercy.
Lead me to water, Lord, I sure am thirsty.

Down in the ditch where I nearly served you.
Up in the clouds where He almost heard you.

And all that we built
and all that we breathed,
and all that we spilled
or pulled up like weeds
is piled up in back
and it burns,
irrevocably.

(And we spoke up, in turns,
til a silence crept over me.)"

-Hanh