I went to Smyrna

I went to Smyrna, my usual

sales trip, bringing with me

what I had to sell. I arrived

amid the cries, torches in the night,

soldiers dragging men, women

off, children taken, too, and some

too young left behind. What is

this, I asked my innkeeper, what is

this thing. Avoiding my eyes

he said, simply,

it’s faith. As he pushed the ledger

to me to make my mark,

his hand shook.

It’s faith, he said.

Only that.

Photograph by George Hodan via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.