My faith is twisted,
and constantly turning.
Through church halls and quiet sermons.
During cold white winters and
hot
steamy
summers.
Faith is the prayers mummered over meals,
under the yellow dimming lights of a dining room,
as the world turns outside.
My faith, it changes on the daily.
Twisted through my bones,
and inter weaved in the brain cells of my ancestors,
passed down from generations of church goers.
My faith can be summed up in the song Mert hums behind me on a Sunday.
A beautiful song,
but never quite yet finished.