Is faith set and certain
or is it alive and changing (or is that me)?
On one hand, I hold onto a
dogma that has been passed on,
outlawed, that has martyred and inspired,
started wars and healed nations.
Is it a solid rock with histories on top
or does bad ol’ humanity stay the same,
while faith, like vapor, takes up the shape
of needed grace?

My faith (can it be claimed?) is filed into
the different drawers of me.
Jesus in my chest, and the saints close by—
Blessed Mother behind my eyes,
but the Old Testament and the epistles
are in some bone or another,
still making up my structure but not understood,
the tolerated ache undiagnosed.
I’ll never be set and certain,
so will I ever be whole enough
to hold it all at once?

Originally published in Amethyst Review.