Unholy Sonnet I

Every loss leaves another hole.
A puncture in the outer shell, a knife
Wound that lifts another chunk of soul,
Pierces the safe illusion of my life.
Father, mother, son, brothers-in-love,
Living lovers lost to lies and shame,
Friends unfriended when push descends to shove,
Survival seems such a loser’s game.
But in time, I’m a leaf reduced to lace
A tracery with clarity of sight
And then it’s me and God, face to face.
Funny, how every hole lets in more light.
I’m being taught that we’re all one,
That I’m a drop of light in a flood of sun.