Welcome Home

 Some mornings when I wake,
I realize that during dark of night
I slipped away….
So quietly it’s hard to say,
To find the words to tell
Even my own self where I went.
I only know the journey
Was more real than any dream.
Have you been there, too?
It seems as though some part of me
Was released to float outside of
Time, space and bounds of Earth,
To visit other hours of love
More real than waking hours reveal.
Do you hold that place within you, too?
Returning with rise of morning sun,
I only know that I was both here and gone,
Returned inspired, refreshed from
Going to another eerie space,
Not just one place and
Not just another place, but a
Wide, wide openness, beyond
Need for stone walls or questions
About why in fall the trees
Lose their leaves, die under
Cold snow that lasts as
Long as grief when love is lost.
Wherever I went, I can say that
I felt completely safe,
Understood finally and fully how much
Fathers love and mothers sacrifice,
How the everyday vision is diffused by
Glass that serves to separate,
Distorts a unity that exists, keeps away
Awareness of an underlying love,
Present in the in-between,
No matter how lost or close we are
To this miraculous world that is always here.
Every night, there is a smell of damp Earth,
Voice of spirits inviting me to move away….
Away from need for fear, an infinite need
Rising tenderly within deep sleep.
It is a presence always here, watching,
Blessing, waiting to be recognized,
Visited by those who cease to doubt,
Traverse within boundaries of otherworldly sleep,
Discover other worlds
Found by those who trust in love.
Maybe some would testify that
I am crazy.  But I simply ask,
“Are you willing to go?”  If so,
Will you leave this home where
Everything is unfamiliar,
Find another place where
You will be greeted with the words
“Welcome Home….”
When your time comes to go,
Whether in deep sleep or
Last hour of death or
Mystical moments in-between,
Chances are, no one will see you leave.
Perhaps they will sense a breeze
Or the wave of a breeze that doesn’t
Move a curtain hanging on the window.
One day the time will come
When others hold the world
Without my presence in it….
But I know where I can be found….
Here, in the thinness of thin air—
If possible, I will reach across
To give my blessing.


One thought on “Welcome Home

  1. These last two poems–both dealing with death in such a lyrical way–have been especially meaningful as the anniversary of Randy’s mother’s death approaches (Aug. 22). Their relationship was fraught, and she was a difficult woman, but her death is still such a mystery, such a hole, that we are both still walking around its edge. Your poems help with the navigation.

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