I was the only person in my confirmation class
not to go through with it.
I had to talk to the pastor,
tell him how I wasn’t sure I believed
the words I was supposed to say.
I think it was mostly because it was so hard
to conceive of that greatness,
of what might come next.
It’s like when one asks
what’s beyond outer space.
The mind struggles to find purchase.
Swimming deep under water,
I see air bubbles form and slowly rise
in small clusters, rounded from ascent,
following their brief unpredictable course.
In filtered light, they start to shimmer
with something like anticipation
for what comes at the surface,
where they disperse in a vanishing ring,
sky-melding.
I wonder how long before
some of them will be a bubble again.
This is a mirror of rain falling into the same sea.
Both disappear into their greater selves,
drawn towards a grand returning.
–
Edward Lees is an American who lives in London. During the day he works to help the environment and in the evenings he writes poetry. His works have been accepted in various journals, including Southern Humanities Review, The Common Dispatches, Moonpark Review, Potomac Review, and Anthropocene Poetry Journal. He has been nominated for Best of the Net.