“O Gods, I believe… please help my unbelief.”

“O Gods, I believe… please help my unbelief.”

A sinking spiral, heart-deep, recalls
The dark woods I wandered in my middle-childhood years-
Web-wrapped by fears, pursued by scorn and doubt,
My born “faith” was nothing but bare words and gestures,
Not merely dead, but freighted with ill-luck, failure
Inherent in it, or so it was to me then,
And still is now.  A cruel, unreachable goal,
Haunting my nights and days until, wound to the worst,
With a snap I came unstuck, ran free though unsteady,
Groping my way to the head of a hard but blessed path.
Deep doubts still rustle, aside, above, around,
Beneath the fair and fascinating turns and windings-
But now there is a light sifting through from above:
On this trail, I desire the journey and the goal.

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