Perhaps

I always wonder what if...

Like what if I had ran that day instead of walked

What if I had never stopped to listen

To the narratives and tragedies of authors like

Glock 9 and heroin

What if I hadn't stopped to listen to Coltrane's musings

What if I had never let that demon hold my hand

Perhaps he would have never had to

fill the cracks in the concrete and

The tracks in my shoes

If I had left at one instead of two

Maybe then I wouldn't be sitting in a pew

Wondering what to do

About the blood on my hands

Some from them and some from you

Because no matter how much soap I use

I can never wash my hands of what I did to you

Or maybe it was for you

But they say it's not what you do

It's what you don't do

But either way it goes

What I did do is done

And what I didn't do can never be

But what if perhaps there are it's, ands, and possibly buts

And maybes get turned into abracadabras

So that maybe

 just maybe

Resurrections happen in this life too