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by Roy K Austin

For faith, is there another way
than to kneel at the foot of mystery ?
As of a sudden or in limbo,
without direction, being lost
beneath the sun above
as it glints on a mist,
or from a fire, forged
to be nailed through the wrist !
Or like the trust of a blind man
who in touching the braille
feels through a void to see,
or as that new born child
with a heavenly smile
that seems, somehow to know me,
it’s tiny, delicate hands
wrapped round my finger
as if asking for time to grow, -
a seed dependent on the wind
or hope in a fog, waiting for love.

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