I cannot tell you what year it is in my body.

Time moves differently here

pooling in some rooms,

gone from others entirely,

the way water behaves

in a house that is no longer level.

​

I have lost whole seasons to the inside of my own head.

I have looked up from a life

and found it was later than I thought.

Much later.

The kind of later that requires

sitting down.

​

And God

I have pressed that question

like a bruise,

the way you press a bruise

to confirm it is still there,

to participate in your own pain

as proof that you are real.

​

I have looked for God in the obvious places.

In the cathedral light of forests.

In the particular silence after a question

no one answers.

In the face of the man who hurt me,

searching for something that would explain him,

something vast and purposeful and cruel

enough to have meant it.

​

I cannot say what I found.

I am still sorting through the evidence.

The trial has been ongoing for some years

and the verdict, as of this writing,

is inconclusive.

​

But here is what I can verify.

Here is the sworn testimony

of my own body, which has never

once lied to me:

​

My back hurts.

It has been hurting since Tuesday

or possibly longer.

The specific ache of something

held too long in the wrong position

a posture of endurance,

a spine that learned early

to expect the next thing.

​

And there is a bruise on my knee.

Purple at the center, yellowing at the edge,

the way all wounds eventually

begin the long work

of becoming history.

I do not remember how I got it.

I do not need to.

It is here. I am here.

We are in agreement.

​

This is the only theology I trust:

the body's blunt record.

The evidence it keeps without being asked.

The way it marks time

in a language that requires no belief

​

only attention.

only the willingness to look down

at your own skin

and read what is written there.

​

I do not know if God is real.

I do not know how much time has passed.

​

I know my back hurts.

I know there is a bruise on my knee.

I know I am still here,

accumulating evidence,

which means I have not yet

been proven otherwise.