One’s faith has little nightmares
It easily survives: —
Divorcing lust and Luther,
Henry and lots of wives.

But these are sham encounters
Quickly dissolved in air;
The soul beset no more than this
Will never know despair.

But oh, to go by moonlight
And wrestle all alone,
And fight against no heresy
Except against one’s own;

And be entrapped forever
By what one knows is true,
And dared to do the only thing
That one desires to do!

This is what makes one falter
And waver like a wraith;
This is the Christian’s agony,
And this the Faith.

To face those stark alternatives:
A Nothing and an All;
To choose a Vision or a Void,
A Silence or a Call; —

This is what sets one groaning
Under the olive trees,
Bathed by the blood of Jesus
In wild Gethsemanes.

From Boundaries

  • I’ve recently been undergoing massive scorn and ridicule for maintaining belief in the dogma. My soul has been in a very dark place, and this poem has been like the first silver ray bursting through my heart. Thank you so much for posting it.

  • God bless you… I too am struggling… struggling to survive this torment, and remain true to my faith…  For my soul, for love of God, for my children… and even for my my wife… the font of my pain and my love.

  • I’m in the very same place, Shaunna. :(