Conviction

In books, The Right Thing to Do

burns like a pillar of fire,

but in real life, conviction

is often a single white line of flame,

a flicker you can only see 

through peripheral vision.

In movies, the crisis of decision

comes with a John Williams soundtrack.

(What a hint!)

In real life, you spend so much time

doubting yourself, wondering

why the Spirit of God would speak

like a little old man at a small town cafe,

whispering so that you have to

hold your breath and lean in 

to make out the words.

You can buy a ready-made 

handy dandy god 

at the same flea market 

where you’re sold every morning

as a slave to the campaigns 

of bombastic men.

Commerce is easy enough.

It always has been.

But faith cannot be mechanized.

Its mystery makes a fool

of all who want to 

win win win win win.

If the universe is only material,

all humans are not equal.

There is no ultimate worth beyond

desirability, capability, and contribution.

If you are only cells,

you are either goods to trade

or waste to manage.

Strategy, strategy, all is strategy.

But it cannot be so,

for in that thin flame,

something like the soft instinct 

that calls the birds to fly with the seasons

connects the created to its Creator.

I wonder if they learn 

to hear the call more clearly 

as the weather cools year by year,

or if they simply learn to trust

the tiniest of tugs.