Sylvie Hill

Do You Believe?

In the past,
On a summer night
A Friday you might
Head down round the pub
Like your back porch
But paying for your drinks
Without a bbq
And the vast expanse
In front of your life
Was wide
But only in age could you see
It clearly how limitless it may have felt
But in time
Is really a capped ceiling
Based on your parents
Their economics
Your social demographics
Whether your dad raised horses for polo
If your mom was an intellect
Or worked as a civil servant
And would spend retirement
Playing bingo.

How is it in religion
They are all believing fiercely
In sky fairies?
Is it the buildings
And the monuments
And the stain-glass window things
The anointments and the process
Around which they structure
The fables and stories
About how you’re loved eternally
Will be saved in death
And why you should live morally
And be kind to humans
So I ask, then
What world do you construct
To allow yourself to look up
And believe that your tough luck
Will get better if you pray
To some entity that is made
Real and significantly
Because of the scaffolding
You’ve allowed be constructed around you
So neatly?

Put simply, I should like to know
How we continue to dream
When realities are simple break downs
Of the need to make a living
To pay rent or a mortgage
To secure funds enough for sick health
To acknowledge dementia
And future needs to care for our ailing and unwell
selves.

Put simply, I should like to know
How we expect to fall in love after 40
Without settling on on/off former familiarities
When patterns are so deeply ingrained
And they tire us out and they’re draining
And how to lift this with energy
To go out and try meeting
A soul not desperate – or worse: traumatized
By the need for release.

Sylvie Hill 2018