In Search of Belief


There is a tenderness just there, just under my bones, in the place of heart and meaning,

layered with pain,


and tears.

Can you tell?

There is a yearning for understanding.

For deep understanding.


I want to believe in a god,

In The God,

in any god.

I don’t.  


I don’t.

I don’t believe in Moses, or Jesus, or Buddha, or Mohamad or god or goddesses of any name.

They offer me history and no more.

No comfort, no spiritualism, no beliefs that are believable.

None of it.

None of it.


Look to nature for solace and wisdom, people instruct.

I turn my gaze to grass that is spiked in variegated greens,

The rocks smoothed, pitted and roughed in tones of gray,

The Iris in its blue, and blues and purples, and more,

The sky in patchworks of bellowing white and grays and hues.


I know these beautiful parts of nature 

are supposed to speak to me.

Nature is supposed to say something to me.

Speak words of wisdom.

But I don’t hear it.

I don’t see it there.


There is another place for turning, 

Another place for turning.

And turning.


I seem to know the place but forget and ignore it,

Even when I need it.

Even when I need it.

Even when it is exactly what I need.


The place is down,

laying in my gut, 

The dwelling of the other place.

Not a great god outside, not an image of a stranger

Who is supposed to speak to me, 

Say something to me.

Know better than me.

No, not something greater than me.


Not something greater than me.

The place is in the depths of me.

The depths of me.


The place is in my nature and I am in that same nature.

This speaks to me.

Deep inside.

The truth, I am nature.


Feet on the earth,  toes curled into soil, listening for its breath.

Hands stretched, open palms, extended as taut as can be,

up to the sky, embracing its air.

Ear to the tree that stands sturdy and yearns for a hug.

Yearns to be talked to.

and I am eager to hug it.

I am eager to talk to it.


Heart opened because the wisdom of the earth comes through my feet,

into my soul.

The cry of the tree is spoken in my heart.

The freedom of the sky is in my every inhale and exhale.


And now I breathe.

Now, I breathe.


Now I know what I know.

Gut deep inside, the deepest part of me, 

The bottom of my soul.

I know.

I know.


It is a solo journey, no followers, no gods to lead.

No temples made by man.

No congregation,

Those who would congregate, don’t know there are others like them.

They don’t know.

They don’t know.


Others seeking the deep knowing 

Know alone.

Not with

Not for.


Not for.

They just know.