The Knight of Faith

"For my part, I presumably can describe the movements of faith, but I cannot make them."
Johannes de Silentio (John of the Silence), Fear and Trembling

It seems so strange that they tell me to be silent.
To take this yoke and bear it without a sigh.
As if Johannes kept silent, all meek and unviolent
and didn't lift a cry to question reason why.
But that's a fiction – of Kierkegaardian work,
admitted as undoable and impossible,
and makes faith seem like some independent work,
something that's either burden or improbable.
A burden to wings that fly and lofty lift –
dancing, leaping with joy, and landing back
down receiving what's asked as glorious gift!

No! No! It rather seems more like a cry of lack,
that moves in the blight and dark of a tempest night.
Clinging, groaning, and smiting for refuge shelter
in a frigid vile dark of black and lack of light.
It's a cry to a dear and faithful helper,
in the dread of longing by the weary soul.

Don't presume to tell me I have little faith.
No, no, not when so little is in my control.
Not when God bids me just to groan and wait.
But I, faithless – I suppose. But that's just so,
just like all those who were revered before.
So too did Abraham sweat as he was sunken low,
as he thought of killing all he adored.
I'm sure he cursed aloud inside, then yelled!
To break all hell below with anguished cry,
weeping with the clouds above, while wanting to rebel –
but still fell before God to ask for reason why.

No, no, I will not suffer in faithful silence.
Hannah didn't just as much, but groaning yearned
and pleaded for a son. A drunken reliance,
little compliance, muttering for you to turn.
Shaking to the Spirit, until it pours out
its very words of favor to her thirsted ears.
Only then does her heart fill from the spout.
And all the years of groaning delivered her from her fears.
She breaks in joyous song knowing faithful God
has heard her woeful destitute weeping cry,
and granted her plea with a kind and faithful nod.
Only then in peaceful joy she gladly lies!

No, no, this too is faith for faithless me.
For only God is faithful and can faithful be.
I suppose I'm silent now, but silent groan!
And my tearful cries do not end in joyous tears.
For my sullen spirit does still much bemoan,
and sighs prostrate to God who holds all my years.
God himself cannot deny the very faith he provides,
and to his hidden face my fist does shake!
Till he turns his ear to faithful faithless cry
to cause shining sun to arise, as day then breaks!
No, no, do not say that this is not faith.
For only God is faithful and can faithful be.
And I am just a poor beggar and lowly waif.
No, no, this too is faith for faithless me.