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”