Found god

Didn’t answer.

Didn’t recognize the number.

Didn’t think heaven

had signal this late.

But the voicemail?

It wasn’t empty.

It just… waited.

Like silence

was saying something

I forgot how to hear.

I played it back twelve times.

No words.

No white noise.

Just breath.

Not mine.

Not panic.

Just… a presence.

Like someone was standing

on the other side of my grief

not trying to fix it —

just being there.

I found death in a broken

Didn’t say “I love you.”

Didn’t fix my life.

Just reminded me

I was still dialed in

to something.

Something bigger than pain.

Maybe even bigger than me.

I used to pray

like I was apologizing.

Now I just breathe

and try not to need answers.

Maybe divinity isn’t

a voice booming through the clouds —

maybe it’s

a quiet ringtone at 2:47AM

when you’re thinking

about quitting.

Maybe Deaths not a man.

Maybe She’s

a number you blocked

and forgot why.

Maybe She’s

every call you ignore

out of fear

it might be the truth.

I don’t know what I believe.

But I believe

I was meant to hear that nothing.

That pause.

That breath.

It was too soft to be fake.

Too full to be an accident.

It felt like someone

still wanted me here.

I found God in a missed call.

Didn’t answer.

But I listened.

And in that breath

was every apology

I never gave myself.

Next time She calls,

I might pick up.

Or maybe I won’t.

Maybe it’s not about answering.

Maybe it’s just knowing

you’re still on the list.