FAITH
(for Ahila)
I am seeing the wick burn down
Oil falling on the prayercloth like bittersmoke
Bowing at the age-eaten altarpieces
Where the gods have grown shabby
Like great grand parents revered and ignored
For a while I scrutinize their faces
See if I am seen
Before I stray to the steps and
Carry out my faith 
like my mat
Rolled pressed to my ribs
Penang, West Malaysia,
May 1998
Robert James Berry
If you've any comments on his poem, Robert James Berry
would be pleased to hear from you.
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