God, Singapore

I do not feel Him
But I know that He is here.
Because of His Testaments
And because I have seen Him before
And because I have seen the evil one
In my dreams and on the corner
Holding a broken boom box
Staring.

When I was on the corner
doing His work
I have never been afraid
like that before
But I knew that He protected me
And so I was tormented but
confident
when a bloody woman
stood next to my bed
her hair loose, and she would not leave
for 3 months, though I asked and asked and asked.

And here in Singapore
I feel heavy
And wonder what it is like
to not know, and if I could ever
not know. It is not as bad as that summer
two years ago
But in some ways, it is:

Last month
I sat on the hot curbside and wondered
until I heard a song
and followed the tune
in forms of highs and lows
Mandarin
And I knew the song
was Truth
I heard it.

There are glimpses like that
But often I choose not to engage
not to defend
Not to speak
And sometimes, that is better because
it speaks more loudly
but sometimes it does not
And I know of those sometimes
And I feel saddened by it

For

He is what I know
And I am afraid
when I am not afraid
because that is when I know
that I am no longer trying.