I Howl Instead of Saying “Hallelujah”
This day, I want to talk to God
to say something beautiful or wise.
Instead, I imagine that I am a fox,
my own inner animal.
I am running through a dark forest at night
Snow dripping from the firs
There’s a silence so deep that I can feel it in my bones
I can only breathe in short gasps
My insides are screaming, blood pounding,
when I finally reach the top of a cliff
where a sliver of moon dimly lights my way.
I stand still and blink in the darkness.
Here, there is air and space and time and madness—and then I howl…
the air coming out as white as snow on a Bethlehem night.
But this night—I howl, instead of saying “Hallelujah”