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The rising sun sent shafts of light through the gathering clouds at Oconaluftee Overlook in the Great Smokies National Park

Zero Evidence

There is zero evidence of God,
he scientifically
dissected all that’s been disseminated, no evidence, so he has no basis,
to have faith.
 
A religion
that meant nothing
to his heart was mutated into love.
I'll be with you,
he softly spoke,
for a religion that means everything to you, now, means everything to me.
 
 
Though, if you could prove to me that there's a God, any
shred of evidence,
would open up
my soul’s wings to Him.
 
Approaching death, we're both hoping for a last chance miracle.
Death makes believers of us all.  
 
A whitewashed room
with only a plant in a rippled, blue vase
to remind us that there is life
outside this place.
 
A room full of pills, tubes, and machines we try to ignore,
nurses forever at the door.
He whispers he wants to be enveloped by my loving presence.
 
I lock the heavy latch,
not that it was so weighty, so large, everything's
a colossal hill needing to be scaled.
 
I wait with you,
only the faint tapping of high heeled shoes,
down hallways where
we heard the doctor's news.
Snatches of voices from distant rooms disturbs the silence of our roles.
 
‘Til we both knew
there wasn't time
for future plans,
to softly reminisce, nothing to say
to all of this.
 
I encompassed you,
you whispered soft,
This could be God!  This could be God!
And you were gone.
 
You still fill my atmosphere with
dreams and passages,
secret messages
only we who shared.
And I wonder what he meant? Did he find God in death, or God in love?
 

About Lisa Tremback

I started writing in Elementary school and was published in school and local newspapers. I graduated from Columbia College in Chicago and studied under the poet, Bill Knox. I have been published at Colorado State University's underground newspaper. I enjoy writing almost every day and love to write about my relationship with G-d.

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