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Dennis Hall41 said:God, I swear, on those long rainy nights,
when I bring you dinner with bread tucked under my arm,
walking into the room, I see you just looking so miserable,
your holy face hunched over the morning papers.
I’ll sit down beside you, trying not to be noticed,
watching the shadows cross your pure face.
As your eyes scan from one headline to the next,
flipping through page after page in a frenzy.
How am I even supposed to comfort you then,
just standing there, absolutely paralyzed by shame?
And would I even have the guts in my voice,
to actually defend this crazy world when I'm standing before you?
I’d probably just collapse under the weight of these words.
Maybe some spark of human joy would flicker in my eyes.
"Oh, Lord," I’d whisper, my voice barely holding together,
"just let our little country keep spinning."
Then I’d quietly slip out the door.
Leaving you alone to deal with all that pain.
Praying at the threshold that the scent of fresh, warm bread
on the table might soothe your anger.
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