DO YOU BELIEVE IN GOD? It was like a warm fire on a winter day after a long walk home from school, a cup of cocoa by that fire. It was like the sound of my dad's voice when he sees me. It was like a hug from a friend, the one you remember. It was like laughing during sex. It was like that time I danced and I didn't care, I felt fantastic. It was like relief after heartbreak. It was like a cool shower. It was like a welcome dream. It was like an unread letter from a friend who'd died. It was like a kiss. It was like a storm and like its eye. It was like winning the fight. It was like a good wake. It was like seeing his body at long last. It was like tonguing the gap where the tooth was. It was like touching the bruise. THESE THREE REMAIN Do you have hope? she asked. In what? he said. In hope, she said, come on -- I know you understand me. It's the one I miss the most, he said. I used to think it was a little radio, tuned to the secrets of the universe. Then I thought no, hope's a muscle. Then no, a song. There's Hope and hopes, she said: Hope in meaning, small hopes for a nice day. I'll hope for the nice day, he said, Meaning's too evasive. When everything was ending, I said a little prayer back to myself, one I'd learnt at school. I never felt so empty than when I realised it was empty. She looked, said nothing. She heard the rush of words. Felt the edge of him. Felt the fray. Understood that he was begging her for help he couldn't bear to beg for. Then, Your name means Destruction, doesn't it? he said. I remember that from lessons too. What's that supposed to mean? Are you where everything will finish? Is that what it feels like? she asked, moving closer. Don't touch me, he said, then said, It feels like I've arrived into a world that I abhor. And I don't know who you are, or what you're here for. I just know that everything I've believed is nothing now. The god I said I followed plucked me like a golden apple, let me rot in the corner of his garden. He said I'd be prized, said I'd help establish a kingdom of wisdom and of love. Look at me now. Cold on whatever day this is. Hungry too, I'll have to search for berries for some satisfaction. I'll drink water from the mountain stream, it'll taste of heaven and sheep's piss. I'm forgotten, he said, And I'm wondering if it's worth the effort to continue. Is it? she said, Worth the effort to continue? He looked at her, made a noise like laughter, or a bark. Who's asking? he said. I know you want to know what happened to me, who did this to me, why I'm bleeding. I've some things I need to find out too. Like: How come you found me? Were you waiting for me? Am I bait? Is this a game? Entertainment? f I tell you everything will you explode in front of me like everything explodes in front of me? Are you a friend? Are you a bomb? Probably both, she said. Excerpted from Kitchen Hymns by Pádraig Ó Tuama All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
