Someone I love is hurting.
I cannot rub it, or kiss it and make it better.
I go to the sea and watch a fisherman cast his line into the water, while I cast questions.
We both reel in frustration.
She's lost her faith, it seems.
We talked about what faith is – love and trust, rather than buildings or rituals.
I hope her faith comes back again, like the tide that washes over the jetty.
As the sun rises behind a collar of clouds, I cannot see it, but I feel its warmth.
God is like that, I tell her.
I cannot rub it, or kiss it and make it better.
I go to the sea and watch a fisherman cast his line into the water, while I cast questions.
We both reel in frustration.
She's lost her faith, it seems.
We talked about what faith is – love and trust, rather than buildings or rituals.
I hope her faith comes back again, like the tide that washes over the jetty.
As the sun rises behind a collar of clouds, I cannot see it, but I feel its warmth.
God is like that, I tell her.
