All sadness in our genes emerge as we share stories.
Most pain has been forgotten, but our souls know,
as they remember why we feel lost so many times.
In the old cathedral where I took you
a blanket of desperation is still lingering,
still to be felt, unknown by the living but felt.
But we move on, in life and passed the crucifix,
and alter what we leave behind, what will be found,
later, they will find love and laughter.
So shall we, although we need to look for it in unlikely places.
You make me laugh in front of the altar, o God,
I can’t take you anywhere really. The blanket moves gently.