We sat, pasting crows
from construction paper
waiting for them to come to life.
They did come to life,
shuddering with breath,
flapping cautiously, realizing.
Jesus could be a camera
watching over us when we’re sick with letters
sick with names,
lying on a hospital bed,
moving through whatever deserts
with a gun in our hands,
praying it ends or doesn’t end.
There is some sickness to mitigate
our sickness,
something to hold us together.
Some hand pasted a heart into us
so we started to breathe,
trust our lungs.
We feel watched over, so
we have been constructed just so carefully,
just enough.