It's a matter of faith.

a poem for your Monday

It’s a matter of faith.

The kind you constantly doubt.

The endless questioning.

The bitterness.

The front steps of St. Catherine’s.

The smoke stack clouds you make when you breath sitting on them in December.

The comfort in the conversation.

The part of you that has grown faint, like you left it out on the deck and the colours faded from the cold.

It’s the part of you that used to believe easily.

The part that is hard to recognize now, like someone from your past you lost touch with and get a Christmas card from once a year.

The part that knows love is bigger.

The part that knows even you, yes you yourself, are worthy of it.

The way you want to run from that truth.

The way you don’t know why.

The part of you that is still there.

The part that knows we’re just spinning on a pale blue dot for a short ride.

The part you desperately want to make amends with.

The turbulence around you while you look for it, like a forgotten sweater in a dresser drawer you’re tossing everything in sight to find.

The sweater that doesn’t fit the same now because you have changed.

The way you wish nothing ever changed.

The willingness to keep looking.

The human condition.

The still small voice that never leaves the safe place in you.

The place you have spent a long time building walls around.

The patience that you don’t think you deserve.

The arms length distance you’ve grown familiar with.

The great sadness you are tired of carrying.

The blinds you keep closing because you’re afraid to let the sunlight in.

The courage it takes to admit it.

The letting go of the wheel.

The stirring of a new season.

The growing.

The open door.

The cinnamon tea waiting on the table for when you’re ready.

The friend you missed.

The faith you need.

With a grateful heart, it’s all yours.