Andrei

When you were twelve you decided
that you would believe in God.

It happened like this:

sitting on the swingset you
felt you were too old for, you
felt the sunlight, sudden,
on your skin, and

the air smelled of the flowers
that hadn’t yet bloomed, and
the breeze tasted of August,
months away, and

the sky unfolded its warmth
upon your shoulders, and
your feet, brushing March mud,
seemed miles from the ground, and

suddenly you wept your clumsy
twelve-year-old tears,
having caught a corner of a thing
so big and beautiful
you couldn’t bear it.

This world could not belong to you
so you gave it to God
instead.

by A.J.