Had to leave home today, unexpectedly.

No time to leave a note,

Didn’t think I was going to make it,

But they all helped me have a safe journey.

 

Even the clerk at United,

Asked for my place to be kept,

After I found a parking space in Terminal B.

Then I got Pre-check,

And didn’t have any bags.

 

Security whisked me through,

And the late at the gate said,

“Are you Mr. Cunningham”

And just printed my ticket.

 

Like they were expecting me,

And they love me.

So, I left on time, sorry about the note,

But will see you soon enough.

 

 

Not a smell, but something similar,

A need to connect and learn more,

Fooling myself, like a detective story,

Sending me on paths of justification and outcomes.

 

Perhaps it is not,

Some figment of imagination,

Or fantasy to serve my ego,

Satisfying an appetite for tasteless food.

 

Like the physics experiment of iron filings,

Attraction cannot be seen or touched,

Only felt, however unreasonable it seems.

Not just instinct … there is more.

 

Unseen but present.

 

 

Not a building,

Or just memories,

It’s not a country,

Or a tribe.

 

It is not prejudice,

With directions included,

Or instructions,

To whom I should marry or not.

 

Home is not one place,

Or an image,

Or smell, or sound,

I once loved,

Or thought I did.

 

Home is not identikit,

But does show where I’ve been,

Or my family has come from,

In the past.

 

If my home burns down tonight,

And I wake with my new toothbrush,

On my friends couch,

Will I still have a home? An identity?

 

Home is my soul,

Both yesterday and today,

Seeking and living out life,

And reaching for and new image of home.

 

I am a stained glass window,

Each piece telling and retelling my story,

In new light,

As the morning breaks.

 

Knowing all may change again.

 

Talking, asking, requesting, desiring,

The requests fly into the ATM,

Sometimes written, other times recited in groups,

The prayers go out,

Each with an RSVP.

 

Who am I cheating at this bank of unlimited grace?

I can’t trick God so what is going on here?

If I ask reward is that really communication?

Is that a prayer?

Or me encircling my ego?

 

The latter methinks.

Real prayer asks for nothing.