Poem 6

I picture a great satellite
Circling the earth
Scanning it for faith
In its various stages..

Faith’s beginning
Is blackness.
The brain’s analytics
Scan for it,
Finding nothing.

Satellite readings:
Silent.

Then comes the rumors.
Clouds mixed with curiosity
Always someone pushing
The story.

Santa lasts for a decade
Or so, with a cadre
Of minor players:
Easter bunny, tooth fairy,
Card tricks and lines of
Magicians taunting us
To believe.

Satellite readings:
Silent but for
A crackle.

There are credible stories
Taunting the analytical
Minds of billions:
Cancer gone, prayers
Seemingly answered.
The stories of ancient
Men
The tales of old wives.

Satellite readings:
Loud static. Then silence.

The constant is hardly noticed:
We want to believe.
Waiving off our mind’s eye
We taste the taunt
Of dreams beyond
what we can see.

We find ourselves
Retelling stories
Always finding audience
Keeping the reality of
Doubt at bay.

Satellite readings:
A din of unnerving
Resilience.

Then cometh the inevitable
Suffering of life.
Faith is bitch slapped
By waives of disappointment,
Gut pain that lasts for years.

Inevitably someone puts
Their god front of us
Assuring us that
Their god is God.

It is then that even
The strongest of
Those whose desire
To believe
Reject the stories,
The promises.

Satellite readings:
Unexplained return of
Silence. Is there any faith
on the earth?

Easter Sunday Morning.
Millions remember,
Quietly doubting,
Yet quietly assenting
With the other doubters.

This is the ultimate
Perfect answer.
Only the hurt,
The badly broken
And the old.
Only those who
Haven’t lived long enough,
Or loved completely,
Or forgiven those who
Made them suffer
Can actually desire.

Resurrection.
The perfect answer.
The only right answer.
It hangs there in front
Of us,
Hopelessly wanting it
With no proof to satisfy
Our want.

Satellite reading:
Major Tom taps to see
If the faith monitor
Is working
Or is it dead.

Jesus, the Risen One,
Your believers persist.
Some of them would
Make me believe!
Almost.
What is it
That keeps them
Afloat as the most
Of us are sinking.

How have they
Broken the bondage,
Found the cloud of Faith
On which they float?

Satellite reading:
Sudden brilliant flashes
Of light.
Brilliant hues, colors
Unimaginable.
Unforgettable.
Then silence.

The earth still awaits
The final
Answer.
One day all will know.

For now, only those
Called early
Truly get it.

No satellite can read
The timing of
True faith’s coming.
Yet come it will.

There is no other
Perfect answer.
No one but Jesus
Promised it.

You shall see
And believe.