I had a boyfriend.
His name was - well, I can't tell you.
He came into poverty of spirit - like the rest of us.

Jesus!  Who left us here!
We looked around.
Didn't recognize a thing,
which was why
we congregated, delicate souls together,
following one another around.
We recognized each other,
our sense of loss,
what was meant to be.

Like a dutiful pup
returning a dry stick,
we tried to make a go of it,
struggling against all hope
to navigate our way through
unfamiliar
hostile
landscape.

In the end,
it was not enough.
So sad.
Little did we know --
it was all just a game
and we were the pawns.

Far, far beyond the universe
could be heard tittering
teacup laughter.
Massive,
caliginous clouds
bowed to the sound, and
scattered,
foiling
their resolve
to wreak havoc.
In their wake,
a breath of dampness escaped,
a blessing.

The dry stick
has been planted.
Tiny outstretched
green buds
beg to be noticed,
nurtured.
Maybe we can make this our home
after all.