seas of faith
Standing here, chilled by a wintry sea
Of different faiths, rattling on this beach,
Some whose utter certainties frighten me
Others’ complexities float, just out of reach,
I try to find words for the essence, the bones
Of any faith to which I can cleave,
Against all the odds, and amidst these storms,
What is it that I actually can believe?
I believe in your warm hands, [and what else?]
The sweet, straw smell of my sleeping dog’s fur
above his beating heart, your ticking pulse,
all cause the tides of hope and faith to stir.
I can say [please know this you is various]
I believe in you, in me. And in us.
© James Nash 2009