I want to write about faith,
about the way the moon rises
over cold snow, night after night,
faithful even as it fades from fullness,
slowly becoming that last curving and impossible
sliver of light before the final darkness.
But I have no faith myself
I refuse it even the smallest entry.
Let this then, my small poem,
like a new moon, slender and barely open,
be the first prayer that opens me to faith.
This Sunday, March 7 would have marked the 97the birthday of Virginia Way Cotton, one of the grandmothers for whom my youngest child is namesake. Virginia Way brought many gifts into the lives of her friends and family. One seemingly small, but enormous gift I received from her – at the time of her passing – was an introduction to Welsh poet, David Whyte. For eleven years now, this favorite poem still brings me to my knees with gratitude and humility. In celebration of Ginny and with joy for the poets who help change our lives, may your day be open to goodness.
“Faith” © David Whyte
Original art snapshot:
Acrylic on four panel door, (circa 1907)
Available for purchase