My Faith in Me

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Religion and Spirituality  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: July 22, 2018

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Submitted: July 22, 2018

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My Faith in Me Indivisible, with Liberty, and justice for all... Isn’t that part of the pledge we speak, every morning? Indivisible, my Faith and I, in it for the long haul. It gives me hope, happiness, and neverending light, even when I’m down in the dumps, it leads me to soaring heights.

It’s been 19 years since I was accepted, nothing has separated us, not even the hectic and rash separation of my parents.

I had been 8 when they started fading, smiles, kisses, loving hand holds, even laughs, all evaded. I was ten when they separated; I was sad, but my savior was my Faith. It showed me I was still loved by them, not hated. I lived with my mom, shared by my dad, neither was uncaring, they gave me what I had regardless if I needed it, or misbehaved. Maybe I was spoiled? I was never sure.

I was in my second year of college when my Faith was running out of mileage, or maybe that was just me. I just… how could it be? My mother died in her sleep, alcohol poisoning; She had never, ever, drank in front of me, and I’ve been away for nearly a year, I didn’t know… My father cried, not just for show.

They had become good friends, their relationship on the mend, yet it was soon I on the bend.

This was when I began to question…

My mother was not religious, but dad was. I think this to be the reason she died, ‘cause she was clearly struggling, but called for no help, so she lost herself, an old book growing dusty on a bookshelf. She didn’t pray or reach out, Just ended, an unfinished story, knowing nothing about her final wishes, or words, no will just many unpaid bills.

Three years after, my father died in a car crash. Speeding, under the influence, he ended up as mash. His car was the only reason we knew it was him.

Twenty-three and parentless. No other family. I questioned again. And again. and a g a i n . . .

How did this happen to the two people that never, ever, gave signs of struggle before? Never even drank before?

For the first time in my life, I had no Direction. My grip was loosening around my Faith. I needed to learn the Truth.

When I turned twenty-five, I met a girl named Chava, she was high on life, kind hearted, I’ve wondered how she could be this way, only to learn she felt like she was sinking in lava. I asked her what she meant,

Have you ever felt bent?

I stared at her. “I have. I do.” She just smiled at me.

Lava keeps you heated, if you’re bent, just move around, turning, mend.

We became good friends. I helped her from burning and in turn she kept me heated but mendable. I no longer felt bent, I felt I had a Reason again.

Thirty and feeling hearty as I found Salman. He was a hardworking man, he made me feel safe, loved, wanted. Needed.

I quickly fell for him, not love, I wasn’t sure I was capable of that, but his smile wrapped me up like a glove, taking away my breath, reaching into my habitat and showing me newer views.

Thirty-five and single, cheated, broken. My sense of Safety escaped me. Tired. Bored. Retrieving Mercy. Both for my heart and mind, and for the new girl he found was fun, especially in bed.

Was I never to have a full sense of happiness? My Faith was cracking, as if my Deity was slapping away any yellow, mapping the darkness that was plaguing my heart and mind.

Forty when the only sense of white I held onto died, Chava gone, leaving one last note to not hide from the plum coloured pain she knew would coat my heart, my lungs, my mind.

Everyone I come to see painted in a warming red turned black and blue, dead.

I turned to hate, and fear, and ruled that way. CEO, a dragon digging down in ashes until over was her day. Dharma, my companion, was upon my side, guiding, calming the raging fire within my soul. She was my Truth, her brother just the man I was looking for. The older I grew, the more my fire burned, guided anywhere but to my dead sense of faith. Until I met Bodhi, a young child of three. Kin to Nibaal and Mahari, Dharma’s brother. I would watch him from time to time, watching how his small smile would cast light into his parents’ eyes, despite having two guys as his parents. Nibaal the sire, Dharma the mother, but still kin and family to Mahari. No ill between the siblings, it was planned.

It was love that guided them to that decision. Watching eyes light with white and gold ignited a flame inside of me, taking ahold of the Dragon’s fire, turning it into a flicker, a candle, igniting bright, casting a warm haze, creating a handle that, when pulled, opened a doorway for I.

This child created in me what I had lost years ago, back when my mother and father met again, having to know they were no longer physical. Lost when Chava created a numbing inside of me. It was meant to be.

That night, the night I turned sixty, the night I sat beside my bed, chanting a hum I’ve not sounded in too long; it was nifty, filling my head with the sound of bells, guiding along the cracked, broken, shattered pieces of my heart.

My chest thrummed with the golden light, seeing the child before me, Bodhi, along with the Liberty I lost to the demon inside. Along with my parents, gleaming proudly - why, I couldn’t know. Along with Chava, her smile sending streams of water down my eyes, my fingers curling for her, for the life I lost, left behind. Along with my future that could be. Bodhi smiles, the golden light hugging my heart, Tugging.

You were never alone.

He says, his voice deeper, lighter, than a kid his age should produce; my mind in a haze.

Open up, once more.

A chorus of voices, the voices I love mixed with the voice from earlier, the tone of a child’s hidden below.

You hurt, you loved, you felt the pain. Now feel the light, laugh, smile. Live.

My belief was revived by a child no older than three. He had sang to me, showing me that I was meant to Lose my Faith, lose my way, to be here, someone who has grown into a powerful Woman. Strong. Independent.

Once more indivisible was my Faith and I, the challenges I faced, the guidance I devised, reaching high when I only needed to look low, at the gleaming face of a child, and at the Heart of any belief:

My Faith in Me.

http://fromashestopoems.blogspot.com/2017/07/allegory.html?m=1


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