my husband reads to me
at night when the house is falling asleep
and his voice is steady and deep
i cannot describe a heavier peace.
he reads about the miraculous
taking grand risks
going on unthinkable adventures wherein
you lose your life to find it.
i have never been so afraid of this
yet it resonates in long, solid notes
with the bold and bright belief of my youth
which feels encased in corridors
in noble glass displays
whispering of the glory days when
i believed without an alternate scenario
playing in my head.
when he reads, and i must listen
and the scared side of me is confronted
with the faith that was authored strong on my behalf
and cannot be undone
i feel i must, without thinking of it much
take up the ax and sword and fist
and crash the glass into bits
spilling on the floor
because faith trumps fear every time.