Just outside heaven’s gates by Maru

sits the chariot

of the Lyft driver

who once said,

“the best believers

often question

their faith.”

late night in Chicago,

he drove us from

the quiet northside 

down alongthe red line

back to my home

in the south.

I never thanked him then,

for hearing out

the questions,

most others

want me to reconsider.

“not my god,”

is often the

colonized answer,

to why we praise

a man who lets us suffer.