The homily asked what Heaven was,
the choir inquired of love.
Eternity pulsed in a chance pause,
choice light poured from above.
The two of us too of us to bow,
crow hymns, weigh down a pew.
Two yeasting teens, all nudge and now,
we slipped out, slipped off, and knew.
For some God’s a gift of peace,
For some a scathing grace.
Some know in not a deep release.
Some, touching, touch his face.
Christian Wiman’s new book, Zero at the Bone: Fifty entries against despair, will be published in December