I keep showing up because you always show up.
I keep obsessing about prayer because, deep down,
I know death is real and pain is potent. Nevertheless,
I believe that you can make beauty from ashes.
I know that roses bloom through concrete.
I trust that you love me and care for me. Plus, if
I don’t show up,
I don’t want you to feel alone. (Of course,
I don’t think you’ll really be alone.)
I don’t want that, regardless.
I don’t deny it: You’ve been there for me.
I don’t hesitate to say it: Hineini.
I am here because you are here.