For a doubting son

Another dusk
another day of errands and planning,
dishes and laundry,
texts from you to pick you up-
tutoring was over.

But class is still in session.
The teacher is trying to answer your questions.

You can’t see him, but you believe,
you think.
You doubt.
You have questions.

But it’s another dusk
and the sun goes down behind the desert mountains.

Deeper and darker
yellow
then crimson red
as though the sun
is dead
buried behind a rock.

But tomorrow that passionate ball
of fire will rise from what seems to you a grave.

And I will rise too.
And I’ll wake you.
And I’ll take up my cross
and lay down my life
and pray you will see
that surely he is with you always
even to the last dusk.