Your Grasp, Tested

Amen, Amen, I say to you, hold fast
to the quiet for it is here you will find me,
breathing for you in the tightness of minutes,
days stretched taught across raw abscesses.
They will heal, though not as you will hope.
First, you will bleed. It is natural, painful
expected; you will not lose more
than you can spare, it is change
tossed to the beggars tugging
at your hems. Pennies, I will give
you more. But you see wolves
instead, shredding the layers
you mistook for protection.
Still, I will breathe, let you cry
your eyes red and dry, let you find
me again -- I am patient,
I am more than you'll ever need.

Let me give. Hold fast.