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The Strange Mix of Fact and Fiction
I recall the dying moments of a burning quest
The search for truth among the broken rubble,
Had I for faith escaped the reality I’d confessed
Chosen to live in a fancy blown-glass bubble?
In childhood I’d thought to question the surreal
Astounded by the strange mix of fact and fiction
Was Santa another name for Jesus, should I feel,
How does one deny the oft-taught conviction
Of family and strait-laced Sunday school teachers
Ill-equipped with a maturity to reason through,
Reinforced by so-called God-infused preachers
Always reinforcing the proper moral thing to do.
In youth, judgment impaired by indoctrination,
Struggling through real experiential anomalies,
I probed the mind’s most oblivious contradiction
Faith and truth seemed not to coincide in ease.
The adult years insisted on what seemed true
Apart from the blinding faith of raw acceptance,
Avoiding going every which way the wind blew
I came to reconcile within my own assurance.
Written June 26, 2022
Copyright ©
L Milton Hankins
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