You are
even here.
With thanksgiving, I pray:
You are
even here.
Even here
in the dead of night.
Even here
in the sting of betrayal.
Even here
in a meal, in a crowd.
Even here
in the starkness of a hospital room.
Even here
where the rubber meets the road.
Even here
in muscles that ache, in life that bleeds.
Even here
in the dead silence after the POP! of gunfire.
Even here
amidst the accusations, the denials, the pleas.
Even here
at a table, in bread and juice.
I hold on to this good news as the shadows deepen:
You are
even here.
Even here.