by Kavita Jindal 

Act of faith

Don’t pry don’t ask to whom I pray; if it changes from day to day, if the entity is
male or female
if I fast and for whom
don’t ask, don’t ask.

I know there are forms to fill; spaces where I must write, neatly and in caps, the
beliefs I’ve claimed
dog tags strung tight
around my neck  

agnostic, atheist, multi-faith, irreligious, liberal, gregarious, star-gazer
sun-worshipper
and to top it all 
open-minded

yet searching for a word to describe my true religion, which began one solemn day  
when I thought
impermanence could be
invited at will  
 
I wished to be a ribbon of mist trailing in the cold blast of the stratosphere but found
I’d stayed within
reach of earth; why, I was
still grounded  

Drawing breath is an act of faith, one I’ve embraced; running, jumping, keeping time, sucking in
air, choosing to
each new day
is religion

Monday to Sunday, just living is an act of faith.


Ellipsing, Elapsing

By June the season will be gone
if we don’t write it this minute
we will never write it

even here hiding in the forest of your absence
I ask for no more than blank paper

Trees lean in to venture that I may wish
for a flutter of letters, or a scoop of arms  
but I ask for no more than blank paper

soon the cart will trail under the open sky
all salty streaks wiped away by the leaves

Your gift of fallowness
will die out in the hot sun
and the season of love will be gone

if we don’t write it this minute
we will never write it

We will recall the calm handshake
but not the hug, the season was short
and what was it that happened

leaving not even a fine line
etched on the palm?