Covered in a cloak of faith
I searched for sanity and the log
to company my insecurities.
Sick and without a test I was forced
to believe the insane would walk again.
But what of faith I asked myself?
Does God not sweep the rug beneath us
And quiver at the choke of the seams?
I asked God to remove the dirt from under me
Only to be told my belief was caged like an animal
waiting for release.
I want faith to take its next step for me.
But do the insane move or only stand still for
the exchange of temporary relief?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem