Faithlessful

It’s easy to be full of the Divine when the warmth of the sun dazzles your eyes
But when your heart scatters into pieces across the Universe
What then of your faith?
What then of angels with soft wings?
What then of Gods and Goddesses, aspects and effigies –

Totems and trinkets that keep us safe in the world
That lie broken at the bottom of the hill
Wooden shards, emptied of their meaning
What of them?
What of them when the world is too much?
What of their lips frozen in beatific smiles

Do they carry you? Hold you? Weep your tears with you?
Or is your bed cold and damp with cries unheard?
What then as the Tower crashes down breaking your soft body against its rocks
What then…as you hear no answers

Maybe faith is silent and hidden
Cautious of worship, ever mindful of conquest
Maybe faith is grateful to just – exist
What then is nothing. Not one thing
As maybe faith is the quiet space in between.


I have found myself amidst a spiritual crisis. Possibly the most worrying crisis of my adult life. This poem reflects that crisis for anyone who has, like me, self-identified as a spiritual person, espoused love, light, gratitude, angelic guidance etc and then, like me, experienced a life event so destructive and painful that it threatens to tear that identity from your grasp.

There is often a fair bit of raging, arguing and swearing at the folks “above” or even cutting all communication. For example at the moment the upstairs lot and I are not on speaking terms. This is common and will of course pass. As the Divine ones know only love they are aware that this is a process for us so patiently wait until we calm down and return to the fold.

I don’t want to go into what has happened to me that is not the point of this post rather it is to share the crisis of faith that is currently taking place though my poetry.

It helps to write. It helps with the pain, it helps to explore why that pain means such intense suffering and it helps me understand my spiritual self. Hopefully, if this is something you are currently living through, it may help you too.

Faith is tricky because we expect it to be evident, to be our constant companion and to never let us down. For me, that has not been my experience. Sometimes my faith feels like it has vanished and offering me false hope and sometimes it feels like it’s singing from the rooftop, gilding my steps as I go.

Maybe that’s it’s job, or maybe we make it more than it is, maybe we will never know.

And maybe, that’s the point.

Published by Kirstie Sivapalan

Writer. Poet. Indie Kid. Crystal Lady. Pisces. Enthuser. Cheerleader. Helper. Geordie Londoner. Sharer of stuff I know. Sometimes found working in HR (but not very often) Oh, and #spoonie, living with ME/CFS. That about covers it.

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