too unholy for god

maybe there’s something

i’m still holding onto

that i shouldn’t

a piece of glass

biting into

the soft tender flesh

of the soles of my feet

maybe i’m restless

not due to lack of sleep

but because my body

is filled with explosives

and too much sun

brilliantly scorching

through my palms

and from out of my scars

radiating grief

maybe i’m broken

or too unholy for god

maybe i’m the only one

who asked the wrong questions

who left out the side door

who escaped

who ran off

do i really exist?

would it even matter if i did?

what if i was an ocean wave?

or the shard of glass

causing me pain?

what if i’m a bird

soaring through the air?

or the wind that lifts its wings

away from despair?

i don’t know what i believe

but i’m begging you

please

pray for me

pray for me

pray for me

because maybe your hands

are clean enough

for god to lean down

and start listening