My Faith is Weak
My faith is weak since hell is here,
And heaven? lost above,
The sharp moon’s blade spells death I fear,
And I’m bereft of love.
My hopes are chewed up by the dogs,
My aching legs are sore,
I rove the paths along the bogs,
Which demons underscore.
I hear the mournful owl beyond,
Awake on yonder vale,
Pacing through the ferny frond,
In moonlight deathly pale.
My faith is weak — we’ve gone to war,
Aye, every tribe irate!
Spilling blood and wanting more,
Mad strays from heaven’s gate.
The night birds rustle in the grass,
The water rat darts by,
I cannot set a shine to brass,
Sad clouds obscure the sky.
My faith is wan and sickly weak,
It’s sliding into sand,
Lost in time and perfect meek,
As here I roam the land.
This fatigue is terminal;
Sweet Jesus quit the fray!
I need some promise germinal,
And sent without delay.
Not knowing when the dawn will come,
I open every door,
I plumb the silent depths of God,
His puissance I explore.
A readiness to brave the wild,
By holy quickening,
By Him alone my hope is styl’d,
He soothes the hornet sting.
But here, forlorn, upon the glade,
Where frogs chirp in the reeds,
I’m wont to take a razor blade,
Till out my life it bleeds.
My faith is weak — I sing to God,
A neverending ode;
I prithee lift me from the sod,
To Your supreme abode.
AD Lovkis, 22/08/25
I borrowed a line… what inspired me to write this…
“Not knowing when the dawn will come, I open every door.” - Emily Dickinson
adamdaniel 