Lost and Found

I lost my religion…

…and found God

I put down the book
too many words flew at me
I read it through
sought their meaning
tried to unscramble code
designed by those
who deem themselves
the only ones who know

I stepped out of grey clouds
covering me with verity
I knew the rules
followed the letter of the law
ignored with guilt and hid
from those who judge
right from wrong

I took off my watch
too much time
spent in

I let walls crumble
my lifted ego dropped
fractured into shards

A pause for breath
boundless freedom found
I don’t have to be
but me

Now I peel layers
to reach the epicenter
one fragrant petal
at a time

There awaits
one canon for all

My beating heart
my dearest friend
my Beloved
always there

There the source
no addendums
no middle men to confer grace
no fear of doing something wrong
no ceremony where perfect words
grapple in contention
where right dogmas altercate
where gods’ egos clash

It is as simple
as yes and no
no shades of in between and
more difficult than it seems

As the gentlest shaman offered
…remember the root command
love one another…

I now know how to stand
begin anew
one simple movement
one simple thought

love God
love others
love myself

As I breathe out,
God breathes in
an immutable espousal

here I begin…




Author’s Note:

For more on this poem, visit JOURNEY/lex.



Here’s what you get in today’s news:
“Rotterdam considers roads made out of plastic”
A celebrated accomplishment, indeed

I wonder how that might work here in the Sonoran Desert
where sun bakes earth into hard crusted sweeps
to allow only bravest of green to push through
with its pricks and brambles and rocks where lizards laze
and Narnia bugs’ noxious spray defends their guard
on sweet-juice prickly pear

Would our transformed waste, Rotterdam’s fascination,
bear our transport across bone-dry wild where scorpions
hustle, vultures celebrate the fallen, and tarantulas samba

Let me take the guesswork out of Rotterdam’s conclusion,
something to fit your schedule so not to keep you too long
from your daily occupation

We fill our world with our creations, not a worry
of how long they will live their life once we are gone,
or the space they fill in perpetuity with our wants

Wouldn’t we better ourselves if we were to sit
under Sonoran sun with beasts and bugs
to pause in wonder

Might this be somehow be enough for us?

Author’s Note:

Our delightful writing group gathered this afternoon for laughs and sighs from end-of-school-year tired.

We each received phrases from a prompt suggesting a sales pitch. Mine were:

here’s what you get
fits your schedule
take the guess work out

However and true to my form, I needed a bit more inspiration. So I went to my e-mail and took the first subject line. It was from Project Journal: Rotterdam Considers Roads Made of Recycled Plastic.

These communions fill my soul. Thank you, ladies.


Photo of Sonoran Desert courtesy of Wallpapers.