Nothing Is Real Poem by James Tipp

At this moment in time nothing is real
Nothing makes sense in the emptiness.
Not even all the years of loving and sharing
The years of arguments and compromise
The times of highest love, and deepest loathing.
At this moment there seems nothing to hold onto
Everything seems detached and unreal.
Even my ability to cry has been put on hold.
Death with all of its inevitability
Still shocks me, stuns me leaves me reeling.
The sentence whether sudden, or expected
Clangs like a bell and drowns all else
Shakes my certainties releases my fears
So where is faith in all this? Where is God?
He is there in the comforting hand of a friend
The prayer of strangers, the Word read.
He is there on the cross and the empty tomb
He is there in his spirit, speaking through others.
Nobody dies alone, the Father is ever present.
In the now and in the beyond, his love goes on.