By Martha Wakenshaw
Lost and Found
I lost my faith, but I'll have to check my back pocket
because I may have stuffed it there absentmindedly and
when no one was looking.
I may have put my faith in a file drawer
to be pulled out later or in the dog's bowl
by accident or the old leather messenger bag
hanging on the wall.
I feel faith trying to find me, tugging
at my sleeve like a small child.
I hear faith crying out in the wilderness in
that wild and wonderful place of unknowing.
I see faith shy and hiding in the shadows
afraid to look up.
I smell faith in the incense thrown all around
like a foggy autumn morning.
I can almost touch faith, brush my cheek
against it's warm body.
Faith plays hide and seek with me
now seeking me, now calling out
Martha Wakenshaw is a member of St. Paul's, a writer, and a psychotherapist. Her website can be found here.