And I got a call.
You are always doing something mundane when you get them.
When I got there
he was sitting on the floor
with a gun to his head
just like I used to do…
When I took the loaded gun from his hand
I did not have much to say
I did not want him to die
but I did not judge or become enraged
because I had not wanted to live myself–
not since sometime in the eighties, anyways.
I felt so powerless
and numb inside
as if things like this had happened one too many times
and that one time was twenty times ago.
Sometimes it hurts to breathe
and fun and laughter feel like daggers
sometimes I just stare into my coffee cup.
No one likes a whiner
and someone’s always got it worse
but we don’t feel safe opening up to each other,
and most of us
pretend that that ain’t true.
Let the north wind carry my heart to Jesus
Let the high snows cover my soul in silence
Let the rocky peaks rise to meet my spirit
and let me bow my knee to my king.