Quirt and spurs
To doubt no quarter given,
that pebble in the shoe, worm in the apple,
beam in the accuser's eye.
On one seesaw's end,
the fundamentalist tends
its grave, while beyond the pales,
the inquisitor goes to great length
to rid himself of its stench,
to soothe if not to quench
its constant roil and prickle.
Not speculation so much the enemy
as its disreputable companion
uncertainty; tamping down the dirt,
pretending it doesn't breathe
or squandering valuable prayer time
doing battle, the strategy and research
to chase it from our well-ordered lives.
For how can we lovers, the great faithful ones
look ourselves in the glass
if we find not there conviction?
O child of God, queries and uncertainty are quirt
and spurs to propel you toward the goal.