[I am participating in a daily Advent poetry prompt by Two Sylvias Press. This poem is the result of the first day’s prompt.]

I envy Avila
so certain of her heart’s castle
ruled by her King of truth
her Sovereign of love

Too often
I fear trickery:
certainty is deception
white, black
bad disguised as desirable

Days on end
Nights awake
I wander fearsome forests
worrying, worrying
that I worship a false Father
follow a merely magical Queen

without grace’s discernment
without faith’s truth
I am a prisoner of delusions
with no divine bridge to reality

The ground of my soul quakes
trees topple
castles crumble
I stand naked
alone, afraid
envying Avila