"Trust"

Trust never feels like 
   enough . . . 

It waits 
   it plots
It wears its disappointments
   on its sleeve
It remembers
   and always keeps
Score. 

It's the original Chosen One
   Four Ever 
   Tortured Soul 
Who expects absolute obedience 
   but never finds it. 

Because God herself
   proclaimed no virtue 
   under the slightest shadow of
   impurity
Let alone 
   uncertainty.

As if our body’s asymmetries
express
   our inherent and inevitable 
   Short Comings.  

Trust will hold onto your arm
   until it (or you)
   become blind 
   and turn it into 

Rust. 

 

 

April, 2025

 

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©2025, Michael Smolens