Every time I light a cigarette
It is a vigil for Billy—
His face, dim lit by the flicker
Of a match, or lighter,
A solitary image in the dark of my porch
Suspended over his whisky
and a new cigarette
Mid-sentence, as we discuss
The ruin of culture, and theology:
Sin and God.
Then I look up
To watch planes crawl across my horizon
Like stars through the trees.
One time, desperate to hear
My Savior’s voice, I stared
Into the gloomy night, only to see a single star.
It occurred to me how precious it was
To receive these photons, which
Had traveled longer than the Earth
Navigating past distant cosmos,
Through space and even time itself
Missing every star and planet,
Through voids and vast galaxies,
Plunging into our atmosphere, past
Clouds and mountains,
Threading the narrow spaces between
The branches of my trees—
To end their eon’s path
With me.
And in that moment, I heard
His still small voice.
He calls to us,
To me and Billy,
Softly speaking peace and love
Before the human race was born;
And reconciles all our hearts’ distress
With pinpricks of light
Heavier than we ever know.
Dec '18
