Atheist

ClaireScott

At seven I stopped believing in Santa after Mary Lou whispered to me betrayed by adults lured into an unreal world I stopped believing in the tooth fairy with her late night dimes, the Easter Bunny with jelly beans and pastel eggs and God

But I am not a good atheist I slip into the back of Saint Anthony’s some Wednesdays at noon and sit in silence with the stained glass saints

I read Simone Weil, longing for her unwavering faith if we ask our Father for bread he does not give us a stone

I find my hands in prayer for hungry children, for their exhausted mothers holding signs on street corners

I see yellow crocus burst through spring snow

I watch my grandson take his first steps grinning with delight and I know God is still in this world even though I don’t believe