I want to write about faith,

    about the way the moon rises

        over cold snow, night after night

 

faithful even as it fades from fullness,

    slowly becoming that last curving and impossible

        sliver of light before the final darkness.

 

But I have no faith myself

    I refuse it the smallest entry.

 

Let this then, my small poem,

    like a new moon, slender and barely open,

        be the first prayer that opens me to faith.