The Unseen

I want to believe, but I can’t believe; it’s weighing on my shoulders. I need that belief, the hope and joy of new believers, the wisdom and resilience of long time believers, but I can’t believe in what I do not see.

I see flowers in millions of colors, a rainbow smeared into the earth. I see skeletal remains of long ago monsters, called dinosaurs, or some other name I can’t pronounce.

I see hungry bones protruding from emaciated bodies, withered hands reaching for succor that never comes, or comes too late.

I see bodies littering the streets, the blood of babes runs profusely, and I see death take over this once proud city.

I see God on gravestones. I see hatred in the pulpit.

I see two towers fall. And I see millions die, and many millions more fall by the wayside of an impossible path.

Where were you then?

You said you would always be there.

What a jerk. What a liar.

How can I believe, be like the hands-lifted-praise-the-lord hypocrites when you abandoned even them?

I am empty. I cannot see you. I cannot see faith.