Monday, April 7, 2014

Home Is Where I Am

And I will always be
the mystic girl
who looks for God in the curves of her hips
and the wind on the dappled leaves
and the smile of a dog

Who worships the Loving Heart
that I must, I can't help,
but believe
is at the center of this
beautifulfuckedupmysteriouscomplicatedinsane life.

But I have cast off
the language I formerly used
to describe my attachment
to the Divine Flame.

That there is truth, beauty, and wisdom
in that story of creation, incarnation, death and resurrection
I do not deny
but for me
there is nothing healthy left
to pluck from those branches.
That fruit is bitter in my mouth
and acid in my gut.

There are waves over me
I don't know
if I'm drowning
if I'm being baptized
if I'm swimming
if I'm shuttling towards the bottom trench
or rising to the light.

Perhaps all of the above.

Wherever it is that I am, I know that I am home
in myself.

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