God is wherever two or three
are gathered, like at this recovery
meeting where one regular
is drunk and two have brought their new
twin girls. They have dubbed
my friend Uncle.
Our facilitator, diagnosed
with PTSD today, has asked us to close
our eyes and pay attention
to our breath and to the music
coming from her phone.
It feels to me like a Quaker meeting
again and also like winter recesses
again, spent indoors playing
those guessing games
of who touched me.
This is the best part of my life
now, sitting beneath flickering
florescent lights with these people
whom I want to call
my family -
Eyes closed waiting for God
to tiptoe in, to choose
me, to make me
beloved.
