Faith is Playing Games

Faith meets me quietly
In sliding tears and
Waves of relief
When I hear my mother’s voice
On the answering machine.
I find her in the tired pangs of my cheeks
When I can’t stop smiling
And the gentle squeeze of my sister’s hand
As it takes mine during the scary parts
Of movies.

Faith also has a tendency to
Boisterously burst into the restaurant
On the heels of an old friend
And a blast of winter wind.
She makes it her business
To nestle between my ribs
When I return home
After a long, rainy day
And the cat comes to meet me at the door.

Sometimes she hides from me,
And I have to call all my friends
To help me find her again.
I retrace my steps
And wrack my brain to remember
Where we were together last, but
She’s sneaky that one.
She waits until I give up
And then calls out
From beneath the dining room table.

I roll my eyes and sigh.
I might even laugh a little.
I tell everyone that I knew where she was hiding all along.
In short, I do everything I can
To hide the fact that
I am terribly relieved
That Faith was only playing games.


~ by ettaqueen on January 15, 2011.

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