All've It by Matt Moberg, segment 2

 ...continued

tell me it that isn't holy.

tell me there is a better word

than sacred

for the way light keeps returning

with no guarantee

we will actually stop and take note.

 

i know people who believe in therapy,

probiotics,

tarot,

twelve-step meetings,

manifestation journals,

and waiting exactly eleven minutes

before texting back

so they do not appear emotionally available

even though their whole nervous system 

is standing in the driveway holding flowers

 

and underneath all of it,

every ritual,

every doctrine,

every smoothie with chia seeds,

the prayer is the same:

please let me be loved.

please let me be forgiven.

please let this strange little life

mean something 

before my lower back

submits its formal resignation.

 

what is going on?

 

for real tho--what is this place?

 

this unbearable tenderness

of being alive long enough

to watch steam lift from coffee in winter

like a soul practicing leaving.

 

to see your friend laugh so hard

they slap the table

as if joy is a mosquito

they are trying to kill.

 

to hear a child say "pisghetti"

and, for one shining second,

realize language 

has finally been improved.

 

i know i already noted this in the first piece,

but the older i get,

the less use i have for certainty.

 

to be continued...