Word Raccoon shuffled into the room this morning wearing yesterday’s eyeliner and carrying a mug of tea she didn’t make. She sat at the table like she was in a chapel and whispered, “It’s today.”

She meant this:

My poem, “Mutual Mass” appears today in The Dew Drop.  Many thanks to them. https://thedewdrop.org/2025/10/26/drema-drudge-mutual-mass/

(The original link was being a little shy, but it’s fixed now. Thank you to anyone who tried to visit the poem earlier.)

It’s one of those poems I wrote months ago and then forgot how much I needed. But rereading it now, in the quiet aftermath of my sister’s death, I feel it in my bones. 

The god in this poem is not booming or dazzling or demanding. She’s tired. She sits beside you, eyes closed. She offers a drink and asks for your witness.

And that’s the whole thing.

When I wrote it, I was thinking about how exhausting it must be to be seen as divine. How even god must ache beneath all that expectation. How maybe what sanctifies a moment isn’t strength, but stillness. Not thunder, but shared silence.

“Mutual Mass” is part of my poetry collection-in-progress, Look, I Built a Cathedral, which is currently seeking a home.

This one’s special to me. Not dramatic, not flashy. Just the holiness of quietness. The miracle of sitting beside someone without needing them to fix anything. Just… being.

You can read it.

You can sit beside it if you’d like.

No need to say anything.

You were

made for this.