Bickering hate crash from all sides.
“He is fake.”
“Wake up and be wise.”

Chanting belligerence
Slam at those who believe in
Devine deliverance.
Oh what Hell we ourselves weave.

They tell me to see that he is not real.
“There is nothing beyond what we see here.”
They say the one that gave me this soul,
Only exists in old fairytales told.

The hateful scream for proof.
…as if any proof would sate…
I have none but my faith.

The scornful demand evidence to
Hold in their hand.
…yet any given is,
By their own blindness,
Buried in the sinking sand…
I have only me.

A once empty heart.
That in a single blessed second,
Was brought humble by a
Gracious force I was
unable to see or touch,
Yet my soul,
To this moment,
Can still feel.

I am your proof.
I am your evidence.
And through ‘I am’,
I will see and touch
The Promised Land.
© Kmariepoetry