cathedral prayer

I don’t know what is worst-

being sad for no apparent reason at all,

or not grieving when I know I should. 

I never seem to feel emotions the right way,

but it is not like I lack the capacity. 

I have felt their nameless ghosts before. 

God made me an empty mason jar,

on a rack with honey and jam containers. 

They are sweet and sour, but I am nothing. 

Sometimes he fills me with water-

sometimes he leaves me just with air. 

What do I do with what is inside of me? 

People need what I have to survive-

but there is plenty already on the earth. 

I am small compared to the excess around. 

I am only good in an apocalypse.

I am only good when the world ends. 

I am music on a sinking ship- comfort in the inevitable. 

If I will only be beautiful when the stars start to fall,

I do not want to be wanted. 

I do not want to be loved.

            - the angel of death leaves a prayer on the front steps of a cathedral.