through lit windows i see them.
i can even experience
however vicariously,
their soft contentment as they move
back and forth
through the glowing warmth of their homes.

like sparrows burrowing their nests
they seem to find refuge in you
no matter how long the day or
dark the night.

turning my eyes back to the road
i look down into the valley
and realize for the first
that an early spring rain
has covered it with blessing.

i spend the night in an open field.
a canopy of stars spreads
over my head and
dreams of homecoming wash
through my soul.
in the morning i rise
and continue on with nothing
but my own yearning to guide my steps

soon enough i will come to know:
i am better off just one day
in this timeless moment
than an eternity anywhere else.

it is on this very threshold of return
that i have come home.

i’ll tell you what i know
but i must warn you up front
it’s not exactly suitable
for children.

i’ve met this one you call god, the
seductive voice in the wilderness
that blows your mind with wonders,
feeding your every craving
with the promise of
glorious redemption.

it’s all fine of course until
your inevitable misstep, you know i’m
a merciful god but do you realize just
how many times i’ve forgiven
your iniquity, how often i’ve
restrained my wrath, how close
i’ve come to unleashing this
pent-up fury upon you?

oh, i know this voice all too well,
the one that whispers i’m so sorry
but you knew i was the jealous kind
when you signed on the line
it’s ok now don’t cry, yes
you’ve taken your punishment
so now i’m taking you back
my one and only
love.

i know all about the deeds
they ascribe to you:
the way you split open the void
and drove chaos back into
deep darkness,
how you split the heavens wide open
to make room for the light.

and i’ve heard the stories:
how you convulsed the raging
waters, how you opened up the
narrowest of places, how you
uncovered a path
through which we might
be reborn anew.

i think of it all tonight
as i lie awake listening to
the incessant drip,
drip of the leaky pipes
and when i close my eyes
i see the waters
slowly rising
once more.

as i dream of chaos
spreading through the streets,
i can only pray
that when i wake,
the wind will have
already begun to
stir the waters
ever
so
gently.

did you know there are
those who simply live to tell
and retell of your pitiless anger,
did you ever stop to realize
just how many people sing gloriously
of your dark and vengeful ways?

how exactly do you want
to be remembered?
do you really want to be known as
the one who gleefully
vanquishes the enemy,
who lays nations to waste and
all but numbs the earth
with fear?

or would you rather i sing praises
to the moment i emerged blinking
in the light,
awestruck by the boundless power
that breathes right through me
then drifts impossibly on
into the hush of a
starless night?

i know you are near
but too often
i feel your presence as
a kind of sad capriciousness,
listening to us sing
our well-worn hymns
as you dangle the
sweet dream of justice
before us.

then again, perhaps i’m
only projecting my
hopes and fears onto you –
that behind this
terrifyingly random facade
there lies a world founded
on pillars of equity that
will never be shaken,
try though we might.

so if i send my songs of praise
to a place beyond even you
i’m sure you’ll understand.
and when my voice gives out
i won’t falter –
i’ll simply close my eyes,
raise my cup,
and revive myself with the
sweet taste of liberation
without end.