Faith crisis poetry


  1. A heart once pumped so strong and sure, a rich and fiery red
  2. That reached the toes and fingertips now weak and nearly dead.
  3. It urged and coaxed and pressed — inspired — to battle scary things.
  4. This faith is but a trickle now, its strength an echoed ring.
  5. Where is that strength? Where did it go? Where can it now be found?
  6. In plates of gold it is not hid. Nor quiet prayer profound.
  7. Not buried deep in mountain halls, nor under wooden pews;
  8. Not seen in tokens, skins, nor signs, nor in prophetic muse.
  9. A voice rang out in yesteryear, so piercing, loud, and firm:
  10. Defend and preach and testify, rejoice and teach and learn.
  11. It’s just a quiet whisper now, a scant sound off the tongue.
  12. Few hopeful words fall from the lips, no warming songs are sung
  13. Where is that voice? Where did it go? Where can it now be found?
  14. Not in the notes upon the page, nor in familiar sounds.
  15. Not in the mirrored words “I know”, nor parroted amens.
  16. Not in the furnace nor the soap, nor pearl or precious gem.

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By Kim Siever

Kim Siever is an independent queer journalist based in Lethbridge, Alberta. He writes daily news articles, focusing on politics and labour.

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