After his mother's funeral,

Oliver remained in the pews.

He told the pastor he needed a minute.

The time, he said, take all that you need.

People trickled through the glass double doors,

thinning to him alone before God's throne.

Oliver pulled a Redhook out of his bag

and sipped the bottle half-full.

Oliver carried heavy questions for God.

The king of the pantheon of God's,

who answered to no other.

Oliver expected no answer

to the questions that sliced

through the tension

of the insurrection warring

against his broken-hearted cliche.

Oliver set the bottle beside his feet.

He bowed his head over prayer hands.

The sun faded its rays, withdrawing its light

from the stained-glassed sanctuary.

Oliver's lips moved.

He loosened his tie

and returned his attention

to seeking understanding.

But he found no answers

to his mother's death.

But he found himself

in the warmth of God's love.

Oliver didn't understand it now,

but God said he would someday.

By Andy Cooper

From: United States

Twitter: AC0040