coming home

When the unsuspecting sorrow of the night sings your name,

that far distantly intimate self arrives to cradle you.

This bitter melody bespeaks an aroma of soft tangible dark that stills the force of worldly reason.

It’s time now to fall.

Lean your tired body against everything you’ve known

and the passages of time will open their yearnings

to your wild soul.

The way beyond beckons you closer to now,

to what all your heroic accomplishments in their brash sight

are blinded to.

This has been your abode all along;

the place from which you came upon your arriving in this world

and the place to which you’re always returning.

All loves taken from you

have, in their disappearing,

not left at all

but returned to your home

called presence.

You live with them now

for even Death loves the present

too much to take it.

Here at last you can know that you’ve always been friends with your longing,

that mysterious bridge to the otherworld,

the pilgrim route carrying

your lost memories of

remembered wholeness.

On these shores of grief,

you yourself are the gift to be given,

dying into life,

your earthed flame rising in a dance of praise.