Exile

Buttery welcome spills out
to sit with me in the grass
My back digging into the ridges of bark,
holding up this oak as the light holds up each blade
stark and shocked in the temporary respite of
a Texas summer night.

My sobs punctuated by my rough backrest
Energy dissipates in the air like the heat
radiating out of the dirt beneath me.

Just moments before possessed and displaced
so that I couldn't even find my way out
and beat on the door in frustration,
I grab fistfuls of grass and dirt
to remain planted
here
waiting for a breath of forgiveness...

Waiting for memory to fade
of fear, of anger, of cries.
Wanting to run away, but resisting
the urge.

How can I sing songs of peace and forgiveness
in a time of anger and selfishness?
Grace is a warm mystery
I am drowning, out of my depth

May my hands split and my body wither
If I should forget myself again, little ones
May I be dashed against the rocks if
I fail to love you more than worry about you.
Again.
My loves, my salvation.

Forgive me and call me home.

Summer 2011