Just Once

Just Once

 

They ask what I believe in

Not a breathless deity with wooden features

Black apricot eyes. 

Not many creatures charged with

different tasks

If there is a what,

I believe in the wood that his arms lay on

Strapped and pinned with rustic nails.

The gravity that burst his lungs and

Allowed him to cry “It is done!”

The right thing to ask is who.
Who do I believe in?

I believe in the hands that printed the

Stars and the moon and the clouds.

They don’t ask me anything 

No one wants to know

Perhaps it’s not important

Perchance they already do.

I wear it on my lips

My eyes speak gospel for me 

The music from my hands-

I hold baby Jesus on my hips.

Just once I’d prefer some person

Ask me who I believe in. 

Not what, but who.

I won’t give a Sunday school

Premeditated poem, lethargic liturgy

Mess of Moses and Mary and 

John and Joseph and-

No!

I want to introduce you to someone

The only one.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
Our world

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