I walk the path through the woods because I cannot stay still. Mud darkens the cuffs of my trousers, my hands are cold in my pockets, the ground yielding beneath each step. My eyes sting— tears arriving without warning, without a name. I stop. Try to pray. Nothing comes. No words. Only breath. In and out— cold air filling my lungs, fogging briefly before it disappears. And into the quiet I whisper the next line of the Creed: I believe in the Holy Spirit. The words feel thin t