If real faith is knowing in our deep bones
that through empty space we are forever
free-falling, true joy is sitting silently
in a vast park on top of a picnic table
with a friend whose mother will die
from cancer also and suddenly being
surrounded by small flying seahorses.
The day is dazzling, the sky so vividly blue,
a stand of birch trees in the distance
at the edge of the greenest grass
you’ve ever seen.
There is nothing, nothing, anywhere
to fear. You wake up laughing,
happier than you’ve felt for years.
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