Talk of miracles
turns my mind to the days
of gods who threw down lightning bolts
and mortals who danced to summon the rain.
The gaps in human knowledge are always penciled in
with splendid imagination, like the blanks in a Mad Libs story.
Yet there is no comfort in living
so far from bedtime story beliefs
– miracles, true love, anthropocentric Gods,
the supremacy (or even competence) of humankind –
without stubborn faith in a twofold bedrock:
the strength to claw my way out of any hole
and the hands that reach down to help me.
This poem was written in response to Poetry Prompt # 115: What do you believe? on Read Write Poem.
Photo by Oliver Spalt
What do you believe in?