POETRY
How Can God Bear It?
Seeing everything at once
After praying for an hour,
the question crushes me:
how can God bear seeing everything at once?
All the dying breaths, the stillborn births,
the lovers throwing away their dreams
in hole-in-the-wall restaurants
with flickering candles,
the junkies in back alleys
tying off veins, the homeless women
pushing shopping carts down Main Street
as snowflakes gray in dim streetlamps.
The question carves time into fragments
of eternity too big to swallow.
I don’t want to know how many stars
have already died. How many days
are left in my life?
Does it matter how many times I’ve tried
and failed?
Spiraled into depression or flown
too close to the sun?
I want to lie next to my only lover, stroke
the familiar curves, whisper her simple name.
Release me from your sight.
How many prayers will you hear tonight?
How long must I wait for an answer?
