To Go Home

To Go Home

(“This is he of whom I said, after me comes a man who went before me, because he was before me.” John 1:30)

So you saw him eye-to-eye
and jumped in the womb when his
mother came calling.

You saw the spirit land
like a dove on his shoulder
and heard a voice announce his call.

You baptized him,
and wondered,
wishing it was his hand upon your head
that lay beneath the waters.

So you touched him skin-to-skin
and did resist his righteous request.
You leveled the earth before the lamb,
the world’s sin-eraser,
and got yourself in trouble with
politicians and kings.

Me, I feel stranded here,
moored upon earth in a square-foot perimeter.
Me, I’ve landed here without seeing,
without touching,
without knowing a heartbeat within my own,
an uncancelled thought, a ghost of a holy touch
on my wrinkled brow.

I write from emptiness, a well dry as crust,
a heart of tears so salty they are dust upon my cheeks.

I cry out, I appease to empty space above and within.

You saw him eye-to-eye,

Me, I’m just waiting to go home.