Finding Religion in a Car Wash



It is a warm night to watch swirling rainbows trace childish entrancement across my windshield; mind loitering in musings of an afternoon sermon: Must I alone have faith without cause? Friends spin golden God-tipped memories for hours: guidance occupying stray cat’s whiskers and sweet September winds. Given a reason to believe in miracles. Where is my sign? A sliver of hope for the girl branded and burned into existence on a whim; too unpredictable to mark as a pawn in the game of time’s arrow. Perhaps God is closer than I think, a north star amongst constellating suds, watching over a faithless girl in need of tomorrow. Or perhaps I’m just fooling myself.

 

Poet's bio: Zoe Reay-Ellers is a writer from Washington State. You can find her work in The Heritage Review, and The Eunoia Review. When not writing, she can be found baking and taking long walks.

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