I chose to look a the light and not the lamp;
To find my own meanings of the dreams,
Which have reoccurred in various forms since childhood;
Mystic dreams that spoke to me
About the Lord’s return in the Glory of the Father.
I chose to follow the promptings of my soul,
I never considered what the choice would mean
To my ego,
To my relationships with siblings,
With my parents,
With my abuser,
Or with lovers past and potential.
I chose to believe
That God’s promise was fulfilled
In the Black Pit of Tehran in 1852
In a garden in Bagdad in 1863.
And I am now learning that faith
Is to inhale
When there is no air present,
But that I still will be able to breathe.