“I know that I am a thought in God,
no matter how insignificant I may be – the most abandoned of beings,
one no one thinks of.” – Oscar Romero
Something about the fact
that birds are chattering brightly
the temperature oscillates
like a stressed out needle
or a worried woman pacing a room.
Something about that fact,
the birds going about their day with no plans
keeps me hoping
we’ll find a way out of this mess.
Even if the world ends
(even if our world ends)
and the chattering stops
it mattered that they were here.
(Did it matter that they were here?)
This is not a romanticization of death.
All things decay
or pass away.
I am terrified
that all things change.
I want to know that something wonderful will outlive me
that God remembers and holds the infinite dead
and watches Her own tears scatter the universe like stardust.
If, like stardust,
Her grief will last millions,
billions of years.
When Her thoughts slip away from Earth’s face
I imagine the chorus of roars and laughs,
chirps and groans,
bubbles and rustles
that She’ll miss
echoing throughout eternity in the Divine’s ear
in that burdensome, turned tolerable way
in which those we love never quite leave us.