** This is quite a departure from what I normally think and write. It was originally a performance piece during my brief but enjoyable stint as a slam poet.

**It was written during a period in which I was questioning my belief in a god --any god-- and was unhappy with the reactions I got from anyone I shared my thoughts with, regardless of their own beliefs.

**Don't worry...we used Roundup and solved the problem for good. Probably.

A heart as hard as the city sidewalk during the dead of winter. But even on the city street,

among the crowds of busy feet,

the sun still shines.

A little faith...

just “this” big,

found a crack and took root.

The seed was there...from long ago when young faith tried to thrive but finally died.

Tiny leaves stretch into the daylight,

Tendrils trying,

feeble but finding,

the sun,

just enough to survive.

Righteous boots stride up;

“Hey, you! Little faith! You’re in the wrong place, growing the wrong way. Look here . Faith belongs in the forest! Proud, Pruned and Pious is the way. You won’t see the sun but – we can tell you what to feel."

Please, Don’t step on my faith.

Angry,  pointed shoes kick as they stride past;

"Hah! Who has time for sun? Don’t come near ME with your faith!"

Please, don’t step on my faith.

Confident shoes, confident faith, mothering and smothering, knowing everything;

(tapping foot) "If you had a BIG faith -- like me -- you wouldn’t HAVE any questions because the answers are

ALL.  

RIGHT.   

HERE.  

There’s no need to grow. Just read this book and you’ll know all you need to know about the sun." (whack)

Please.   Don’t.     Step.    On.    My.    Faith.

Intellectual shoes. Fun-loving shoes. Sexy shoes. The shoes of friends. Laughing and perplexed;

"The SUN? It’s fiction! It’s all about greed and controlling the masses. You’re too smart to fall for that. We thought we knew you better." (tsk, tsk)

And they step aside, walk around, gingerly, never looking back.

Hey... Don’t step on my faith? Hey guys?

Busy feet romp, run, limp and lope past on their own quests with their own questions. Treading without concern for a spindly little faith struggling alone.

Hey, watch out! Don’t step on my faith.

And the little faith sways and sometimes buckles, reaching for the faintest hint of the sun, a little wan, a little worried, a little wilted, this little faith:

Warm heart.

Quiet steps.

Warm hands.

Quiet words.

With care the little faith is lifted, loved, nursed and nurtured...

Feel the sap flow. Feel the sun glow. feel the faith grow.

It’s a little faith, just “this” big... but...

HEY! EVERYONE! DON’T STEP ON MY FAITH!!!!