There are days when belief is
a heavy burden a sack of vague possibilities
you keep tied up securely not daring
to open the knot lest someone see
their writhing serpentines intertwined
skepticism faith attempts guffaws
the whole stuffed away lethal
and yet loved in all their peculiarity

How you lug them everywhere
would protect them with your life
and yet can’t defend them well
often can’t explain their natures
can’t explain your own clinging
to impractical immeasurable
impossible immutable even immature

on your bad days you kick the bag
into a corner and throw your hands
toward the skies (not heavens)
and doubt along with the rest
whether it’s just another book
another sometimes sordid history
to keep the world in line

but when spirit animals come
to visit or wind whispers just so
in the cedars or birthdays once
celebrated fade into memory
days of loved ones passing on
recalled and you feel an almost
presence like a shadow passing
see a chair rocking on the porch
when there’s no wind just memory

then  you drag the bag from its corner
to place it center stage shake it out
and loop its leash around your wrist
listen to the whoop and swoosh
inside and feel your heart swell
believing again that even the ancients
felt they would live forever evoking
the old ones dancing with spirits
and you see the heron then winging
over and this time you salute.