"they aren't really sure how much time has passed since they moved...it's like they aren't really sure if they do live here.  they belong to nowhere, unanchored.  some of them like to imagine that they're just hanging out for a while, just running the engine on idle at a traffic light, waiting for the signal to change."

elizabeth gilbert

a faith like yours.

a faith like yours (edited).

written by mayda del valle.

my tongue a broken needle scratching
through the grooves of lost wisdom
trying to find a faith that beats like yours
what secrets do your bones hold?
what pattern does your dust settle into when I beat these drums
inside my ribs ?
what color was the soil in your grandmothers garden ?
how did you pray?
what reservoir did you pull your faith from?
was it anything like this gumbo
this sancocho
this remix of rituals and chants sampled
from muscle memory and spirits
that visit my dreams that I struggle to stir into discipline
to honor the unseen
did you hold the earth in your hands and thank her for its fecundity
how did you humble yourself before your architect
did your lower yourself to your knees
how did you pray?

some say faith is for the weak or small minded
but I search for your faith everywhere
I need it to reassemble myself whole
from these shards of Chicago ice and island breezes
so I can rewrite the songs of your silence and pain

wish you could have shown me it's shape
but I know it is in every sacred breath
in the flicker of flames I stare into searching for what's divine
and I know my body is the instrument
my maker uses to rearrange the broken chords of your history
into a new symphony for my unborn children's feet to dance to
and I see you
gathering to chant the names of the living and the dead
and remind us all
that whether gathered in marble temples
around midnight fires or block party speakers
we have always raised our hands to the sky
wanting to touch the invisible force that
holds these cells together into a fragile mass

we are truly miraculous