FAITH

 

Jessica Lee McMillan

 

 

brace earth for disbelief.
this room you forgot
why you went, or when
you laughed last or read
a scale undismayed
that you were any stones
at all. forgot bones you bury,
carry you. now erode
at edges, more lines at eye
than iris. your weathering
is a pivot, a readable frame.
when you whittle
to abjection,
you have found
the wilding of faith.
when you stop to see
red globes link to blood,
words mend to phrase
in immanent patterns,
you may feel bewildered
anyway. you stray off
and make it to the petals
of a daisy. to days
of making chains.
you look close enough
and become its bee,
bumbling in squeals
of children caught
in fuzzy swath of yellow
black in a motion
minute without premise
of next. faith is in
the matter-less gap,
it tracks
from day to night,
lonesome as the end
of a train, bracing
for landscape,
rocks and silence.

 

 

Most people in high school thought Jessica Lee McMillan used psychedelics, but really, she was learning to become a poet. Her writing has appeared or is forthcoming in Blank Spaces, Pocket Lint (gnurr), The South Shore Review, Antilang, Tiny Spoon, Pinhole Poetry, Dream Pop Journal, Willows Wept Review, SORTES, Lover's Eye Press, Red Alder Review and others. She writes from New Westminster, British Columbia.