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