Once I met a man
who understood everything.
Life, death, gods,
the woman who left,
and taxes.

He said:
“Gods are here.
But they no longer care
about people
who can’t laugh.”

Then he wiped his glasses
and said maybe
he was just hungry.

And I believed him.
Because truth often
sounds like a mistake
too beautifully spoken.

Now when I pray
I don’t wait for anything.
I just try
to make it
a little funny.

Like when you say:
“Forgive me, God,
for I was human again.”

And you feel
someone there
bursting out laughing.

Holy sarcasm -
that’s my faith.
Because sometimes the greatest sacredness
is the laughter
that comes
when you think
you have no voice left.