Thursday, May 12, 2022

The Path

 the path before me
just another open window
just the hungry mouth
of the gaping sky

the path ahead as I escape religion

as I run from the pulpit through the doors

onto the gravel street & straight to

the mountains or the creek

here we go down this path

with a pack of grief & lots of grub

as many snacks as we can pack

into this hobo satchel 

every seeker is a friend to these

tracks these weeds that sky

from the day we are born

until the day we die

I cannot really retrace my steps 

even as I want to reread books

got too many words but 

forgot all the hooks

but the walls of church are

crumbling behind me the death

of god or faith or what I don’t know

because Jesus is still a rebel

to whom I might listen as I listen

to the water keepers & earth defenders

as I listen to the workers organizing &

the junkies getting clean & drunks getting dry

& the people flying signs or trespassing in tents or

writing codes with their misconduct 

to explode the myths with new ones 

we write new stories unravel old fabric to stitch new 

still a devotional distraction & powerless surrender 

to immersion in the radical mystery 

seek to understand new weird things

as much as old weird history   

i am grateful to be lost again

unfound from straightjackets of salvation &

discourses on damnation that defy or deny

this sacred reality of nondual liberation