The Mice – Poetry

I cannot see you but I know you are there

In cracks and crevices you scuttle away

Hidden from eyes but chorusing feet betray you

I do not mind if you make your home

In the membrane of my own

But please I ask you little beasty

Do not cross the barrier of plaster and stone

Of brick and mortar that makes my own

I believe we can cohabit well

If in my home you do not dwell

Stay on the outskirts but not within

My little home made of plaster and stone

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Religious Awakening

I wrote this as part of a workshop entitled Relaxation and Reflexion. We had to look at different aspects of our character and write a piece about them. I chose to write about faith and my current understanding of my faith.

Faith

What is faith? How do people have an unquestioning hold on it and not let if float away like a name written in the sands erased by an encroaching ocean. I wish I had that kind of faith the type that is solid and unmoving that neither time nor tide could erase.

Or if you could buy it from Tesco;

“Two for one 24 hour faith. No logic required, scientifically tested in a can.”

Pure Faith.

Sadly life is not like that. Before my depression began, more than 6 months ago, it seemed simple. BANG! Fast-forward a few billion years through evolution and you find me.

Then the questions arrived like a rush of the tide from the sea. Suddenly faith sneaked in, unexpected and uninvited. It sounds crazy but I was bloody terrified, my belief or lack was stripped from me. I was sanding waiting to cross a road when the thought struck, “There might be a God?” A creator, a father, an all knowing and powerful.

Thankfully cars missed me in my slight religions haze, I should have made a cardboard sign for such occasions:

“Possible convert walking. Mildly to moderately depressed. Approach with care and send to the nearest religion institution”

I have learned from this folly and now carry a sign at all times to warn passers by of impending and occurring moments of religious awakening.

Now, six months on I am the 1 in 4. Diagnosed with a mental illness even though I consider myself physically fit and healthy. But the thoughts, questions and ideas are still there. Its up to me, crazy-but-now-medicated-me, to make sense of these thoughts. Look inside myself and out.

But one thing has come out of this so far. I’ve stopped calling myself an atheist.

Amen.