I hunted heaven
for him.No dice.
Too uppity,
it was. Not enoughmusic, or dark dirt.
I begged the earth empty
of him. Deathbelieves in us whether
we believeor not. For a long while
I watch the soundof a boy bouncing a ball
down the blocktake its time
to reach me. Father,find me when
you want. I’ll wait.
Pietà
© 2024 The Catholic Thing. All rights reserved. For reprint rights, write to: [email protected]
The Catholic Thing is a forum for intelligent Catholic commentary. Opinions expressed by writers are solely their own.