there is no God in you
no lifting light spirit
nor whispering soft
voice of the sainted breezes

you are alone

or so it has been said;
but a hand of constraint
upon the ashen soul
is a hand that touches closer
than one that hovers away
there is God holding tighter
to me and my kind
than any of the righteous
if only to keep us contained

still the grasping hand of the holy
is better than none at all