When God Is Our Grief

when God is our grief
we wade for hours
crossing small creeks

or peering through
the crack in the blinds
in the whitest of dawns

praying stop the sun now
for dread has weighted shoes
somehow

sometimes

how can we move;
the least leaf on the tree
the last fo fall we seem

and yet still want to live
the contradiction out
when God is our grief

and tears drown in a sieve.

mary angela douglas 28 march 2018