Faith Revisited

This is kind of a revision of my other poem, "Faith". I like it and think I did a much better job at the poem this time. I had a different ending written, but felt that it didn't go along with what I believe or what I wanted to get across.

He sat at his oak desk, rosary grasped within his right gloved hand, and a quill in his left.

A small flame danced about the wick of the candle atop the wooden surface

Every stroke of the quill brought a broader smile upon his face

The crescendo of chanting nuns and priests passing his quarters

 

Enamored with the ringing of the bell striking twelve

The priest tightened his grasp on the rosary

Finished the final chapter of his life’s work

And returned the quill to its inkwell

 

Kneeling before his bed with his gloved hands pressed together

He began his nightly chanting, the rosary beads hanging from his right wrist

His mind entered a plane of nirvana, feeling numb as the words spilled from his mouth

Then, slowly he opened his eyes, returning to reality

 

Rising from his kneeling position, he lay himself to sleep

His soul for the lord to keep

His back against the soft texture of the blankets

And bald head touching the ashen pillow

 

Just as quickly as his blue eyes closed, they sprung open

His slender form jumping up to hang his legs off the side of the bed

His unyielding grip upon the rosary forcing the beads to snap and crash to the withered floor

He rushed to the desk once more

 

As if automated, the priest inscribed his dedication with his masterpiece

The corners of his lips widening with glee

Blind with ecstasy

He held the book to his face and read the scripture

 

His dedication, the final piece to his energy driven work

All his soul poured onto these pages with hopes of touching lives

Then his eyes went wide

Who was he?

 

This priest who devoted his life to the gospel

This man with no faltering faith

A human with a heart full of passion

Now void of any faith

 

His hues trailed across the inscription once more in disbelief

Flipping through the hundreds of pages he had written

This was not his work or writing

He did not write these words

 

Slowly, his gaze fixed on the fallen beads of his rosary

Silence roared through the temple

He stared at the dedication once more

 

He doesn’t exist

Author's Note

By popular demand, I posted another poem that I wrote on the fly. Again, take from it what you will.

Reviews

[Pauline Marie Daley]

Again, very well written piece. I loved the imagery. Faith is a complicated topic because people have so many different faiths. But I think you captured the essence of the love of God and loss thereof. Someone who loved God so much, suddenly becoming void of faith is a very powerful statement. Your reader gets pulled into the life of this man, and into his confusion as well. Very nice job.

[Miss Astarte]

Congrats, m'dear, I think you just became a poet. Much better than your other two poems. This had more style and depth. Prose poetry is fantastic, and since you already excel at prose, it is little wonder prose poetry fits you.

Once more, there are multiple interpretations. On one hand, when I first read it, for some reason I pictured a man rewriting/translating the Bible. The end throws me for a loop, however, as I believe I know who the "He" is, but it is also left vague. I also see it as simply a man who comes to the realization that his faith was based upon nothing. Very interesting. I am still going to be pondering over it.

I think the last two lines in the third to last stanza could use a little reworking to make it a bit smoother and more impacting. A serious revelation is occurring and I feel there is room in those lines to add more zeal and passion. They also come across as a bit redundant and, for me, interrupted the flow of the tale.

The ending, while abrupt, is blunt and to the point. At first I did not like it, but upon a second reading I enjoyed how it contrasted with the rest of the poem.

Overall, this was a much more refined poem that had the same power of the other Faith poem, but was better executed. Loved the imagery as well!

Kudos.