I do and don’t believe in God,
at exactly the same time
A paradox like the Trinity,
an unwritten verse that rhymes
I feel him inside me with every step,
while knowing he’s not there
I carry his joy within my heart,
though reason not to share
A metaphysical oxymoron,
incomprehensibly proclaimed
And while science tears him limb from limb
—I still call out his name
(Villanova Chapel: February, 2020)
Not what’s written…
but what’s seen
and felt
—then heard
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2020)
On the back side of deliverance,
our paths fated to cross
Your road going toward the light,
my direction all but lost
You stopped and turned toward me,
looking deeply in my eyes
Pity mixed with latent fear
—my fate so redefined
(Septa R5: February, 2020)
Designated driver,
your road to end at last
The choice was yours, mistake inured,
your future now your past
Designated driver,
those high beams in your eyes
A haunting name, the lasting blame
—that night your dreams reprise
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2020)
My ego lost virginity,
upon the critics throne
Pregnant with doubt ectopic,
its embryo disowned
With labored forced delivery,
and fetus left unsired
A chastised unwed mother
—giving birth to words bemired
(Ronald McDonald House: February, 2020)
True poets are poets
before picking up a pen
True poets are poets
before opening their mouths
True poets are poets
before their words are enshrined
True poets are poets
before…
(Dreamsleep: February, 2020)
To doubt what you doubt,
but know what you know
The difference inherent,
its fire aglow
To wish what you wish for,
but feel what you feel
Knowing and feeling
—those things that are real
(Villanova University: February, 2020)
