a poem recently written.

ON FAITH

the desertion of faith leaves a desolate place.
my mind a closing book, my soul a dying flame.
i crawl to the corners; this is a windowless home.
where are you? where are you?

they say you are obvious, a burning pinnacle of redemption.
yet i have searched.
have walked the lonely beach of depression,
washed up creatures line the surface, a stench
of uncomparible and crippling death.

here we are.
i lie in silence, awaiting a call, some sign?
everywhere, everywhere there is the stagnant scent of emptiness.
feeling stifled, i crawl to the corners.
this is such a small, windowless room.

somewhere, out there, a little girl in red cries.
a bullet, bloodshot eyes.
pulling the trigger, wondering who that is.
who kills the heart before it has a chance to beat?
who second guesses one second too late?
who comes to the edge of the world,
turns around to run back, but already halfway off the edge?

the girl in red, i sigh.
i pull the trigger.