An ocean away
I’ve been to India many times.
I’ve never quite felt at ease there.
It’s the oppressive, ubiquitous unfamiliarity –
ever a stranger in a foreign milieu,
an ocean away from home. These days,
holed up in my hometown, homestead,
habitat, my own planet and (gross) plane,
I’m also ever slightly ill-at-ease,
every familiar thing now drenched
in a foreign light, heard in a disquieting way,
smelt and tasted seasoned with dust and ash.
Ill-at-ease in my own skin, my head and heart.
I’ve listened to You and told myself
so many times I’ve come to believe it
beyond any intentional, intellectual concept,
down to my very bones –
this world is not my home.
This world is not my home.
O child of God, don't rest until you
get back to where you started.
|(photo by Debbie Finch)|