The Believed In

by James McMichael

Christmas comes from stories.
These promise that God’s love for us will outstrip death.
Only if it’s not likely to can the believed in happen.
All I can be sure of waiting for it
is that I want it to come. I’d rather it be

love that at its last the body can’t

take anymore and dies of,
alive at once to its having been made good.
Results at the end vary. Children beloved by them
are sometimes told by the dying

“I thought it would be you of
all people who would keep me here.”
If it’s to be to God’s keep that I give up those I lose,

then God both knew what it was to lose a son and could do
nothing either times to save him.

That doesn’t sound like God. I’m supposing God can do all.
Lost twice to body, Jesus was as quickly back again in
God’s love forever.
It was given to me to have been

loved for my first six years in a house that had my nanny
Florence in it and my mother and dad. Never talked about
even by them,
my mother’s doom was there too. In the looks those three passed,
each had to have seen the stakes in who was who

and may have wanted to switch.

I’m lost to the ways that love is right
at bodies sometimes, always just as it’s leaving and
other without words.