Saturday, April 28, 2012

Our Home

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

The memory of experiences I’ve never had
has been passing before my eyes -
unlived lives wanting to be laid
to rest.

It’s not sermons they are looking for,
but cascading tears -

The kind of tears brave enough
to tell stories in empty rooms.

When the rain falls hard and long
against the window pane,
the multitude of coalescing droplets
can confound the ability see what
is on the other side.

Only upon reflection is
there faith.

I look to the wildflowers
smartly gracing the
curvaceous vase
on the old scratched dresser.

I wonder: Why do I keep one
element out,
and escort another in?

It’s the purring cat that reminds
me that being touched
is an act of relationship.

This, our home, must not be
a fortress,

or a cage.

There is a reason the
skin tingles.

© 2012-2017/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Coming Home: Learning to Actively Love this World"
Published by Talking Waters Press

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