I have an ache made of your absence.
When I am praying, the birds stay with me. Stars replace them.
This is my arrangement with the sky at sunset.
Sometimes passing trucks sing the street; other times footsteps.
Sometimes God laughs; other times She is silent.
Holding birds in one's hands is holy.
My hands know your name, and the braille of my body in its longing.
I always say the same prayer, to be nearer to you.
I have a rosary made of birds.