Our faith had been on the mantle so long
We no longer felt uncomfortable with it.
It lay between a mask and a shell and
New guests still commented on it;
The unusual shape and coloring made them
Ask where we got it, (usually we didn’t
Tell the story), what it cost (it’s impossible
To say), then, ‘have we had it appraised?’
‘No, not recently,’ is the answer to that,
But if you look at the cracks I think
You’ll agree that it may be a waste and
Anyway we have no intention of getting
Rid of our faith even if we no longer
Really take it in or even dust it,
It’s one of those things we carry with us
Place to place, and sometimes after making
Love when we do not turn on the
Television, our eyes still do go up to it.
About the AuthorGeorge Prochnik is a writer living in New York City. Currently, he's completing a book of poetry entitled, Far Cry From This World. When asked to comment on "Our Faith II" he wrote: "For most of us today, when we hear the word 'religion,' we reach for the remote. But notions of vision and faith remain inextricably bound. I am always looking for back alleys and trapdoors through which the idea of faith can be reintroduced - as a refugee, rather than a refuge.
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