Finding Home

Do we have to be away
to find home?

Not the mortgaged,
two cars in the driveway,
double income kind of dwelling

I’m talking peace
in the heart, comfort
in the soul, blessed home

I have felt Presence
in nature, witnessed Spirit
in a newborn baby’s eyes

beheld reverence in a dying
sister’s final breath; fleeting
glimpses, nothing solid

I seek an eternal sense
of belonging, of atonement,
to radiate a knowing, holy calm.

Don’t speak to me of books,
or passages, or a brother
with the voice of God

The home I seek is
an inner sanctum,
a whisper, a cry,

a longing answered
only in moments of pure
simplicity, in stillness

this noise we create,
this distancing, is only fear
and forgetting: products

of original separation,
a projection of abandonment,
remembering, experiencing

the numinous, the sacred other
brings me back home
and I am no longer alone.



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Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

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