This is Belief

By Sonya Rehman

I wasn’t always a Believer,
See,
In my twenties,
Judgment was dished out in dollops,

But look,
A heart is always a little more tender at that age,
Perfect,
Minus pretty dents,

But then comes this train-wreck of a girl, okay,
This vixen,
And her name is ‘Change,’
She’s got long, flowing locks,
The kind of girl jaded musicians think of,
When they make new songs,
Or smoke-rings on a quiet October night,

And I always told Change,
I said,
Girl,
You’re not going to get the best of me,
I can laugh my way through any curve-ball you swing my way,

And she laughed,
Her eyes crinkling up,

The years rolled out,
One after the other,
I still sat,
On the periphery of Belief,

Joy,
Love,
Grief,

They all came,
They all went,
Made their brief, extended, visits,
Like uninvited guests who burp after a meal,
Or tell the best jokes,
Spewing their eccentricities and deepest secrets over lunch,
Maybe dinner,

And then one day,
This in-between thing?
I couldn’t take it,
And so I jumped,

And fell,
I fell deep.
I’m still falling.

The not knowing is the best part.
Wheeee.
Falling.
This is Belief.

John William Waterhouse
John William Waterhouse
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