Finding Ones Way Home
There are developments
That they really are
A part of
The final stages
So I was reminded at a funeral this past week. Instead of the usual disheartening eulogizing, her son repeated some of the beautiful humour Carolyn shared with them in her final days, humour and care for them, when they least expected it.
One needs to find the beauty
That is all around
While one can.
… and the humour …
That comes in so many forms.
Take the pallets burned with garbage left all around by some fools a week or so ago:
two people full of humour
Decided to visit the same campsite,
with rocks bared showing the fire ring,
And burn a few more pallets, wood and nails, right next to the fire ring.
They must have had lots of joy,
Because they were simply too full of themselves,
Then there is the humour and beauty of being alive when so many people have threatened my life,
Of being gracious to the cruel enemies whose lies have brought so many people to think that my life
Is only worth ending,
that my life is their’s to claim in a false or misplaced revenge
for things I did not do, but others have done to me.
They find their way home, foolishly resolving their conflict by
inflicting on me the repute and punishment that is properly their own.
Their homes must be crawling with invisible mice and rats of great humours.
My home is a huge place, the whole outdoors
and a small place that may indeed
(if just one error picks it’s day to appear here too soon)
sink as ice becomes mush.
But for now the beauty is all around.
One has at least a few more days
To share the goodness of life,
Before the cost of one’s enemy’s lies are unjustly one’s own to bear.
At least the left over nails from the pallets cannot be used in a crucifixion
Or can they?
Through wind blown
So today there is the beginning of path or roadway of sorts that may survive long enough to allow home to move on top of soil before it is too late.
How are you going to find your way home, today and each day,
while you still can?