Missing Home

As much as I find formation,
In the Ivory tower that surrounds me,
There is something missing,
Begging for completion in this equation,
It is a longing for familiar arms and body
For me to embrace,
And the comfort of love in the flesh
Made closer to my being,
It is a need for the very souls that drive me in my seeking,
It is an irony of needing to leave to find what is most needed
Is what was left behind,
I knew this already,
But it is the felt notion that brings this to brightest light,
In missing home.

(Here In) Solitude

Solitude,
I sit alone blankets covering legs
As I prepare for night’s rest,
And still my tongue is restless,
Unworn from speech,
My mouth is an empty cavern capable,
But speechless,
Instead it is my brain,
The vessel that has been tasked with laborious burdens,
My mind that has tumbled and wrestled with the day,
And yet,
At the day’s end,
It is my mind that longs for the comfort of a used mouth,
For the melodic hum of vocal cords,
But yet there is very little of this song here,
The mind is alone,
With no accompanying music,
The mouth stays in silence,
But for the occasional chewing on idle tongue,
All are in individual silos of solitude,
As am I,
In my bottom bunk,
In an almost empty room for 10,
Thus begins, and begets,
Life of the minister in making,
Here in
Solitude.

Winter Berries

I feel her inside of me
The goddess she blossoms,
Even in the bitter cold,
Ripe like crimson winter berries,
Rubies against slopes of white,
In the dark she calls,
Ever nearer,
Deep within,
Never without,
I shall not fear the dark,
The unknown,
Whenever she’s here,
Surely I’m home,
Goddess unseen,
I only feel you,
Pulsing through my veins,
In the touch of a leaf,
Caress of a hand,
Silk of water flowing over me,
Where can I not find you?
That I surely don’t wish to know,
Goddess you are in me,
you are with me,
You are me,
And this
We,
I
Know.