“shed some light on this,” she says,
as if gravestones glow and death itself
comes with a celestial lamp switch.

“my hair used to be that thick,”
says the cancer patient.
“my baby used to be that small,”
says the grieving mother.
and there’s no powerful sentiment
left to express; no pretty words
that can save the lost or mend the broken
but if god found the time
to attend the service, maybe
I could ask him for a few lines.

however, it’s likely
I won’t be attending, either.

“leave the lights off,” she says.
“after seeing the lost colors
it’s not worth living in black and white.”