waking up is hard when you only get two-four hours of rest
but it's for my mother, she doesn't ask for much and if all I have to do to make her happy is sing a few gospel songs and tune in and out of an old man threatening my life with hell then that's what needs to be done.
A different old man with shaky hands and an anxious tone ends the service by praying for my soul.
I noticed his gold wedding band, I wonder how long he's been married. Is his wife still living? How much was that ring? What age did he get married at?
"Our God shows the path, once you've opened your heart to him..."
My mother scoots her hand close to mine on the green seats that aren't made for good posture,
she locks her pinky with mine
I look to my left and see my mothers sweet grin
bowing her head to this God, to this cross.
She feels helpless without a bible in her hand and God in her heart.

I'm glad she claims an angel carried her to the couch from the running car in the garage. Because, if she didn't, I'm scared to death I would've been here without her.