Faith is the figure standing stalwart against the horizon;
the host and defender of that glade called Mercy.
You will find it there joined by its retainers:
the cypress, the myrtle, and the great, big, wild oak.
Their heavy arms lifted and pointing, despite their blameless
burden, toward the dawn.
Patience is the natural order of Faith,
as it watches without supposition over this great and terrible world.
Though great bodies of men rise and fall
on the inexorable surge of that vast sea called Pride,
nothing but the crash of their waves against a far-off shore
will reach the quiet copse of the one born to bear all things.
It is always waiting, never wanting,
for the time it will be called upon, rested against,
rallied around. It has seen many seasons, and will see
many more than this. It is never worried; for
undoubtedly children will once again gather around
its hulking body to laugh and play and sing the songs
that are called Peace—this stone form is the hero of the meek,
and its allegiance will not be compromised
by the erosion of the passing day.
Those who have drawn near to that brilliant effigy
return to it often, bearing fruit and bread and wine.
It is tradition, they will say, to leave such things here:
as the heart delights far greater in giving up
than in holding close.
At its base there is a plaque gilded in worn iron that reads:
“If you are here, then there is great Joy.”
And though it never moves, still it seems to lean ever towards
those that join its company; and if you rest beneath it, somehow,
you will always be hidden beneath its shade.
Then, if you also learn to listen when the
small bird sings, you will hear it speak
of where you have been and of where you are
now. And though it does not know all things,
it will gift in eloquence meaning to the landmarks
that appear on the map that each man creates.
And when Faith returns to that kingdom of boundless Glory,
where it is commanded by Love, it will learn to move gently
and humbly and with deep questioning—
for a question is the greatest Compassion.
Then, at harvest time, it will enter into that grove called Kindness
to reap that which has long been sown;
it will find its own fulfillment in picking the ripe and precious fruit
of a free and honest heart.