Faith Like a Grain of Mustard Seed
The mustard seed is as sturdy as a weed.
It can take hold anywhere -- among rocks,
along putrid ditches, in country gardens,
along paths that lead deep into the woods.
No matter where it takes root, it takes over.
My faith has been more like a mysterious fish.
It can remain so still it fades into the beige
background or moves so quickly through rough
water, it appears to be no more than a ripple
of a wave. It will nibble at almost anything
it thinks can sustain it. Worse, it can be caught
by simply rubbing its belly -- and Lord knows
the world is still filled with people who hold
the secret of tickling fish. Sometimes my faith
is like a straw fence put up to hold back a raging
fire. It can be consumed with such furor, not
even ashes remain one minute, and burst into a
celestial umbrella that sheds the rains of doubt like
water off a duck's back. I wonder if it has a sense
of humor or what waits in the white rage of its laughter?
--Fredrick Zydek Omaha, Neb.