Belief

When you are young

belief is hard

but it is hard like death

creeping from the birthing room

bloody, entombed

featureless among the lives

its sadness would compensate

energy that caresses old noblesse

but never will its time oblige.

Searching

Search is the guide

the creeping voices do divide—

a goal not of pearls

but in the rustling of the furls.

The cast net falls

yet in the casting calls

for muted and blinded

seeking kings among the mended.

What is faith?

“Be like the bird that, passing on her flight awhile on boughs too slight, feels them give way beneath her, and yet sings, knowing that she hath wings.”
~Victor Hugo

With Easter just behind us, it seems an appropriate topic, no?

But that’s the thing. We most often associate faith with religious belief–it’s more than that. Faith is believing in something, an all-consuming knowing and passionate belief. The best version of faith, of course, is that which is supported by reason, perhaps even documentable proof. I can have faith in my family’s devotion to one another. One can have faith in a certain person’s dedication to their work. Faith often manifests itself quite firmly in a vocal conscious, but it is inherently a subconscious detail–for it is something so deeply imbedded in us, that we need not truly think on it to know it is true in our minds.

And that’s the key, by the way: “in our minds.” Faith varies, person to person. As it should be. For no one should suffer the woes of blind faith–the mob mentality faith, belief not for the sake of ourselves, but because others would have us believe it so–for this, as matched by few others, has a potential for such devastating acts the world itself should (and has) quiver in dread of it.

Faith is, above all things, personal. So think: what do you have faith in?

“Faith is the bird that sings when the dawn is still dark.”
~Rabindranath Tagore

“Faith and doubt both are needed – not as antagonists, but working side by side to take us around the unknown curve.”
~Lillian Smith

Sustain

A crumb cannot sustain

no more than a man abstain

in his own right thinking

he can escape the linking

of opinion – it’s like drinking

in how it struck,

without the luck;

–

At least the bottle throws a bone,

table-scraps of joy, alone;

some people, they cry

don’t dream of heaven, but they lie:

ain’t a man that ever did die

didn’t sniff it up like cocaine–

once, the thought, even in disdain.

* My latest contribution to the wonderful One Shot Poetry Wednesdays! Once you’ve had a look, check out some of the other One Shot Poets as well–they’re a skilled bunch of poets, with a strong and supportive community.  Enjoy!

Belief

I have not seen the light.

It burns

Me but I know

it is around Me

and I cannot feel it

on my skin this fire

Dances without Desire

Dies without Devotion

and wallows in its ashes

for a man

without Faith

knows neither Hope

nor Fear

but the binds of

Mortality does not lift

and excitement fades

with Life, failing

to elicit the possibility

of what may lie

beyond the stars

of time-locked

Existence.

Fading Gods

He gazes down from hea’n above,

Watching through a powdered dove.

His people walk the Earth below,

Dreaming of what they can not know.

He sighs and turns away,

As his people begin to go astray.

He wanders then to ancient hall,

Where so many ‘fore had come to fall.

Broken statues linger here,

Of fallen Gods who’d known this fear.

That noble Odin,

That beauty Benten,

Oh great Anubis!—

All fell into the great Abyss…

Fear begins to creep,

Even Gods are known to weep—

Is he destined for this same grim fate?

Can he only pray and wait?

He is as great as any passed,

And his kingdom is so very vast;

He looks into their wand’ring eyes,

Ever watching from the skies.

Is this God destined for the same grim fate,

That fell on those before him?

They say he is so great a being—

But can he face that test of time,

That felled those powers all,

That came before him

In those days of old?

For Easter

Do you know the story of the Easter Bells in Europe? Throughout the year, Europe is set to the ringing of the bells, save the Christian Good Friday and Holy Saturday. It is a token of mourning. Yet on Easter day they ring out once more, as a celebration of their savior’s resurrection. On this day, millions of people are set to celebration across the world.

Accordingly, this first quote of the week is in honor of the Easter weekend.

I think of the garden after the rain;

And hope to my heart comes singing,

“At morn the cherry-blooms will be white,

And Easter bells be ringing!”

~Edna Dean Procter, Easter Bells