The Secret of Belief
by Bill Yarrow
I don't believe in symbols
but there's a hole
in my living room window
in the shape of a bird
A hail stone punched out
the profile outline
of a nightingale or bluebird
or blackbird or thrush
Well, I have no idea really
I can't tell a robin
from a vulture
or a seagull from an eagle
A bird of some kind though
head, beak, torso, tail
with spindly bird feet
clearly in the broken pane
Were I a believing man
I'd almost accept
that there was meaning
in the shape of broken glass
But nature has no purpose
accidents are impervious
to intelligence
the random is no icon
Unless there really is a God
unless unbelief is a bagatelle
unless this is a true calling card
of the Paraclete
Listen up, archaic torsos—
here's the secret of belief:
(but, sssshhhh, it's not for publication)
m i n d
y o u r
r e v i s e
m u s t
y o u
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Author's Note
This poem was published in Olentangy Review.
Thank you Darryl and Melissa Price.
"The Secret of Belief" appears in THE VIG OF LOVE (Glass Lyre Press 2016).
Other stories by Bill Yarrow
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Were I a believing man
I'd almost accept
that there was meaning
in the shape of broken glass
"I don't believe in symbols
but..."
I like the "but".
"unless this is a true calling card
of the Paraclete"
Enjoyed this, Bill! **
Conceit either way. Clever, this.
What Samuel and Arturo said. Enjoyed.
"Unless..."
Made me smile. Whether a thing is an omen or not, it can be a comfort and that's what counts. :) *
Fine work.
What an opening stanza, Bill. For me, a perfect opening. Great, great image.
And...
"Listen up, archaic torsos—
here's the secret of belief:
(but, sssshhhh, it's not for publication)"
Oh my. Strong poem.
A lot of fun and a winking wisdom.
Good stuff.*
Thanks very much, SDR, Erika, Arturo, Matt, Kitty, Charlotte, Gary, Sam, Darryl, and Jill!
*
"Were I a believing man
I'd almost accept
that there was meaning
in the shape of broken glass"
*
Thank you, Jerry and Steve!
Excellent poem, Bill.
Thanks, Daniel!
I just realised that this could be the whole poem:
I don't believe in symbols
but there's a hole
in my living room window
in the shape of a bird
Were I a believing man
I'd almost accept
that there was meaning
in the shape of broken glass.
*
Good one, Bill.
Made me think about the dozens of birds that have died, over the years, flying into the glass panels on my deck. Karma would suggest that someday, something big is going to come along and break that glass. I'm hoping actually for a hole shaped like a great blue heron. (A pterodactyl, I suppose, is too much to hope for.)
*
*
Thanks, Ray!
The call of the ninth bird? A fine meditation on visibility and what we take to be audible.
Thanks, Edward!