the world broke my heart, all at once.

he is still dead. no matter what I try.

storms come when everything you love is half a nation away.

dads that make their children touch them, making slaves.

and I cried in a ball on the bathroom floor of a stranger’s home.

it’s almost so much I can’t breathe under it.

but he is here.
he died and didn’t stay dead.
he quieted the storm.
he makes all things new.
he weeps.

he breathes for me when I cannot.