A certain knowledge,
I do not tell anyone.
It makes me sad.
It makes me weep.
It is a secret so open
no one sees it,
except me.
Except the cat
that sits on a pillow.
Except priests
who listen to a voice
behind the screen
that says,
I love so much,
please forgive.
The night follows me,
with a faith called death,
the certainty of pain,
the loss of morning.
Teach me to say,
there is a place for eternity,
that our children live,
love stays new,
flowers return,
and the light we reach for
can be touched.
Or help me to remain still,
join in festivals
and forget what I know.