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Posts Tagged ‘faith’

 

 

 

the seed company sends their catalog

with 162 full-color pages of vegetables ready

 

to harvest. From snap peas and bush beans

to shallots and quinoa, plus every shape

 

and curl of leafy green—red ursa, red ruffled,

red Russian, Bolshoi. This is the same night

 

my son asks me as he falls asleep to explain

the difference between science and religion.

 

One, I say, is based on fact. The other,

I say, is based on faith. Though tonight,

 

as the temperature falls below ten,

and I regard the carrots, dark orange

 

and almost glowing off of page 29,

I begin to wonder how different

 

the two really are. I notice how the promise

of a slow-bolting, scab resistant

 

varietal sounds like a psalm I love—

the Lord, it says, will keep you from all harm—

 

and I look at the Royal Chatenays

and the Yaya Nantes and say out loud

 

to the dark kitchen windows and

to the cold winter air, I believe, I believe.

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Example

 

 

 

Above my window

two tiny hummingbird beaks

hover just beyond the edge of a nest

which is smaller than my hand—

this, I think, is what it looks like,

the start of a long, long journey.

By fall, they will be in Mexico.

They don’t even know yet

they can fly.

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One Definition of Faith

 

 

 

toeing the edge

of everything

we think we know

building a nest for us

on the other side

 

 

 

 

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Perhaps This is Faith

My fingers slip

as the hand holds crumble,

but I am so high

and I know there

are others below me

so I climb on strength

that is not mine,

though I cannot see

the destination nor

can I imagine how

I will keep going,

but I keep going,

I keep going,

one hand reaching

higher, then the other.

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So when I said,
God, sometimes
I am just so tired,
she said, (and it wasn’t
really a she, but it wasn’t
really a he, either),
she said, yeah,
not as if she were going
to change anything
more as if she knew
exactly what I meant.
And then I said,
God, I’m sorry.
I guess you’ve seen
all the bad stuff
I have done.
And she said,
yes, not as if
she thought
I’d been bad, more
as if she believed
I were truly sorry.
And then I said,
though it scared me
to say it, God,
sometimes I don’t
believe in you.
She nodded,
though it were
more like a wave,
like a current,
like a swell
than a nod,
and she said
nothing, as if
she didn’t want
to prove me wrong.

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