In the beginning, you
were the word
and the silence.
You were
light but
also darkness.
You gave us names
for you. You
gave us
stories, too
many stories:
how the world began,
where the dead
belong,
what the unheard
soul should sing.
But somewhere along the line,
you let us
do the talking. You stopped
even telling us
what to believe in.
You decamped
with our memories,
our petitions,
our offerings.
Because you do not listen,
we feel we can
ask you anything.
