Hospitals Feel like God

A boy screaming in pain

sounds like Jesus preaching.

A teen girl giving birth only

to let it go looks like the ghost.

While walking to your bed

I took a wrong turn, 

room twenty-three was not 

where I left it. I ran into a friend.

Quiet and wise he was

hung from an IV hook, blood-

soaked silver floating in

His stomach. 

He asked me how heaven was. 

I told him it was loud.

He said that it was only the

beeping. I breathe a mouthful 

of blood, who do I think I am?

Am I Gabriel, cursing a girl

to greatness, at the expense

of her son?

Am I Peter, a fisherman lost

in the flurry, denying my

own salvation?

Am I Pilate, bound to kill,

washing my hands of

my mistakes?

Or am I just here, 

sat puddled in relief

that I’m not alone my-

Self?

There are more souls

in Heaven, Judas says, 

than Hell could ever hold.

I turn away and quake.

My hand trembles in yours

as a thorn takes your blood

the Eucharist of your own.

A speck of dust On a speck 

of dust swirled together, holding

one another. Together alone 

within

Him.