“Help my unbelief!”
Is what I pray most often.
Because I don’t see you,
I can’t feel you,
and I seem to be the recipient of
decreased sensation to your work.
Chris was onto something,
because I can’t smell the color nine either.
There is this whiff,
this glimpse I get like
when a hummingbird whizzes by
in all her green, gold, blue and yellow glory.
Maybe I can smell the fragrance of Christ.
Maybe I have caught a flash of his beauty.
Like the man with neuropathy whose nerves
have replaced the sensation
of wet sand between his toes
with a dull, tingling pain-
I want to feel you.
But there’s something wrong with me.
Please help my unbelief!