Another Faith

Speak into the darkness
like a child praying.
Age does not lessen
your need for faith.

I don’t mean
blindly binding soul to dogma
or sacrificing intuition at devotion’s hands.

There is another faith
that lives beyond these,
waiting for you–
not on the mountain top of wonder
but beyond, in valleys
deep with yew, oak and hazel,
moss, cress, mushroom and stone,
fine leg, hoof, snout, fin and tail,
hiding behind the mask of many.

It is the faithfulness of love
that dares to look straight into the
Heart of God
and melt into that fierce sun, again and again.

To feast at the table of faith is
to open your mind
to the vulnerabilities of being
human,
to admit without shame
that you can never live up
to your own expectations.

Instead, faith is bringing home
the subtle fear
that makes you believe
every other story but your own.

When you tread with faith
up the spiral milky Way,
you are a star in the night
a naked light without agenda
or any other power but to
shine.

Only when the inner heat of longing
burns up the clothes
of what you thought you knew
and all other loves you claimed for yourself,

Only when there is nothing left
between you and the darkness
can you make love,
skin to skin and breath to breath,
with the Heart in all hearts.

Only then does faith become
another word for “know”.