a godless room

Kayla Simon

i stopped praying for a while

            faith always slips away from me after loss.

how i wished you could have seen the way

i made Death into a father figure.

i needed a strong grip in my life and

had held Death’s hand enough times to know that

his would do.

i had always imagined Death like the opposite of God

so i stopped praying—

i gave up waiting for words from above because

if there were any i was missing them

            maybe the angels took a lunch break

            or the celestial radio was set to the wrong station.

there was this feeling that no one was listening.

maybe my holy words were smoke in a windowless room,

collecting at the ceiling but never touching the stars.

maybe it wasn’t Heaven’s fault my grief

was piling up when I was the one who locked myself in,

but i stopped praying. 

for a long time.

i began to imagine God’s voice like the sound

just after a fire alarm stops ringing—

            that is to say, silence

            that is to say, a noise built on absence.