This poem is my attempt to answer some questions I often ask myself. As an ardent agnostic with an allergy to New Age mysticism, what honest prayer can I pray in times of grief? How might I honor the mystery and leave space for magic in my child's life? And is there anything more omnipresent and eternal than extra-fine glitter? 

Amy Love is a librarian and web developer in the North Carolina mountains. She shares great writing from small publications at A Quiet Root, and her own work has appeared in Emerge Literary Journal, Typishly, and Fatal Flaw. 

W: aquietroot.com
B: @aquietroot.bsky.social