Belief is not Always Belief


I do not believe in god
nor all the applications and attachments
that come with him,
but yet, I still visit
my father’s grave and
light a candle in a church
on his birthday.
Occasionally I even speak to him
just to speak to him,
launch a “hello” into the space
where foolish men say hovers a heaven,
knowing no reply will ever come,
nor wanting one.

My father was a believer.
Even as a dozen ailments
land-mined his body and mind
he believed. If it had been any other person
I would have considered them a fool,
but he was my father, and so
it is for this unfailing belief
that I light these candles,
visit his remains,
speak these unheard words.
I believe in his belief.

When there is so little
in this burning world
I hold hope for
I shall always believe
in his belief.

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Edward Lee is from Dublin, Ireland. His poetry, short stories and photography have been published in magazines in Ireland, England and America, including The Stinging Fly, Acumen, Smiths Knoll, The SHOp, The Moon, and The Sunday Tribune New Irish Writing. His debut collection of poetry, "Playing Poohsticks On Ha'Penny Bridge," was recently published by Spider Press. He is currently working towards his second poetry collection, and a photography exhibition entitled "Lying Down With The Dead." Contact him at [email protected].


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