A tangled profession of faith

A Year with Kabir

I believe in the chicken

grease on Kabir’s book. I believe that no matter

how long I walk, I’m as east

as I’ll ever be.

I believe in faint perfume

and an enemy approaching.

I never believe a laughing salesman.

I believe I am the guest deep in the woods

confused when I spy the nest

of woven horsehair.

Is it more important to ask

where is the horse

or

is faith a gathering

of wild eggs?

I believe the question.