Dubiety

Chinks of rising sun squeeze through
the grimy, earth streaked window
an abstract, stained-glass masterpiece

I slump into a faded carpet.
Dust rises in intricate spirals and settles
“from dust you are
and to dust you will return”

I am searching for God
in this tiny cell, prayer room

Perhaps fifteen years of
Sunday School should have
cured me of doubt
but it is as ingrained on me
as dust is on the
tiny grooves of my skin

“I will refine them like
silver and test them like gold”

Perhaps I need
Refinement
Not
Enlightenment

A simple confession

“My Lord my God”

Not an elaborate testimony

A refined me
to find an already
present You.