conversations with god
I always prefer to take my coffee standing.
It makes me feel a little bit more important, and a little bit less alone.
“Cafe macchiato”
“Cioccolato?”
“No, grazie.”
I keep my sunglasses on and welcome the third, the fourth espresso of the day.
It’s an adventure.
“Don’t grieve the ones who have showed you their true colours. You got out alive. You’re free.”
I walk outside. Even when it’s cloudy, I am okay. Even when it’s cloudy, I am thankful. Even when it’s cloudy, I am proud.
The more you lose of your old life, the more you gain of your new.
When I flashback to a year ago, the memories imprinted in me are more prominent. It never mattered what anyone thought, did it?
And everyone had a reason, everyone has a reason. A beautiful reason.
But, I had a reason too. Sometimes I forget, that I too, was a subject to someone. Is a subject to someone.
I walk up the steps of an empty cathedral. I choose a spot in the back row, and place my sunglasses on the pew beside me.
Gilded ceilings, lilies, the angels and the saints.
I watch as two or three strangers begin to bow to the gold crucifix in front of them.
I am seated next to the aisle.
I believe in love, I tell whoever wants to listen.
But I don’t believe in contracts and signatures and those ties that bind.
“Do you believe in forever?” I imagine Him asking.
Yes, but I also believe in change. I believe in April, and in May, and in rain, and in beginnings, and in endings.
She signed those papers in her hospital bed, remember? And I don’t think her signature meant that she started to or stopped loving me.
Maybe I’m teaching Him something, too.
The priest comes out to light a candle.
I look at the murals and statues beside me. Red roses mirror dead ones. A full chalice beside an empty one. A golden bird cage with no birds.
The moon is positioned below the sun.
But aren’t they both equally as powerful?
The red chairs in front of me look daunting.
I ask to be sent angels in the form of strangers.
Don’t forget, someone prayed for you, too.