a faith seed from where
the end of the world has broken. off,
jagged spires shoot sideways
into the space between reason and faith. stabbing
at air, pointing to stars, as the overflow
of the world piles downward,
screaming with the agony of a thousand wounded children,
am i among these?
can i hear the broken cry,
the awefuul movement of the oppressed,
looking into a black sky,
a no-star night—why
must Your clues be so hard to find for so many?
i am balancing on the spires edge
and talking as i take a step
into the blackness…
oh God, i wonder,
do i really believe this?