What world to which you do not belong
What barren place, what days are these
What awful thing has laid you down
Betwixt this bed alone, you sleep

In a room of ghosts and grime and sin
With no bedding to curl against your chest
To comfort skin and heart and head
Or find reprieve, remember this:

This world to which you do not belong
Is not of you or Her or He
But a world of them, the scribbled lines
of man and man, now man-machine

What of your bed amidst their house
Do you make it, leave it, invite them in?
Or do you tie the sheets and fashion means
To hang your life, go whispering

Along the corridors where they tried to kiss you
Beneath the beams of others gone
Below the words of men who missed you
And missed the most, your unborn son

What now, what world (you’re standing yet –
You’ve left the bed and room and curse)
“What will you have me do this time
What good is left, what use of verse?”

And yonder still, the One you seek
Forever held in suspension there
Just beyond and just ahead
The endless walk to God knows where

But now the ghosts and grime are yours
Not all have seen that bathroom floor,
Fewer still, been strapped to beds;
Freed their limbs and asked for more

Folly! You live; you’re safe and sound
And most of ghosts have long since left
This talk of lover and beloved, how,
When Aleppo burns, lovers bereft

Of beloved, once in bone and flesh
Oh God (for what is God but wonder)
In what world does hell come breathing thus?
Who tears such limbs and hearts asunder?

But this is mine (you speak of light)
And that is theirs, by karma dealt
If this were true (you once were them)
You’d fall to the floor with all you felt

And further into darkness go,
With mimicry of the darkest yet,
To give all that you could and all that you are
To pray in a place where light had left

Throw glitter, glitter at every bent
Hold lightly prayers for beloved thine
You ask for more but don’t malign
A God who’s busy with ghosts and grime.