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PRAYS THAT GOD IS STILL IN PAIN
I
did not know I loved that pair
of
gloves till one fell in the rain.
The
other when I reached my friend’s
clutched
me like extrinsic pain.
I
did not know my inner dark
could
be so harsh as step outside
and
scratch me with such awful nails
that
I felt part of me had died.
What’s
fondness if it has no room
for
such despondency and pique?
A
part of how I saw myself
was
cut off and I could not speak.
Then
going home I found my glove
like
a wet creature in the street!
My
life no longer split apart,
I
laughed, felt silly but complete.
My
darling, if you’re first to die,
will
God feel then some added growth
of
agony that I am lost,
since
he’ll have one he loved, not both?
I
trust, my dear, it will be so.
May
he go out and search the rain
and
take me to him, wet and limp,
to
make himself feel whole again.
Alan
Marshfield
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