Friday, November 2, 2012

The Homeland is Elsewhere

It is a longing
Growing deeply
Ever intense
Subtle sighing of the soul
Reminds the traveler
Where he is going
The dark canyons and
Sudden cliffs seem endless
The shadowed valleys and
Dreary fogged lands stretch out
Seemingly forever
And weariness may linger
Bruises may form
Blisters will scab
And wounds – of battles –
Foreign battles in a foreign land
Ache as only man’s flesh aches
But the traveler moves on
Waiting and watching for that sudden rise
For the swift glory of majestic mountains
For a valley of golden light
For the burning longing testifies to it
The longing that was tucked away in his soul
Since his first birth
And awakened and kindled in his second birth
That knowledge spurs
The traveler on towards
The unseen, yet known land
He has been a foreigner
Wandering aimfully
In this dry and thirsty land
All his life
But it wasn’t until his second birth
That he understood
That his homeland was elsewhere
He was not a native-son
And even now, he walks
Through the darkest passage yet
His man-heart trembles
But the Friend who has reawakened
The longing
Is with him
And the traveler is strengthened
For he is nearing
The place that
And poems
And songs
Have memorialized
Yet failed to represent
A place of returning
A haven of welcoming
A going home
And The Shadow passes
And the traveler with a final step
Leaves behind the foreign land
The land of vultures
And before his hungry eyes
He sees a valley ever wide
Rising up through forested trees
To mountains of unseeable heighth
And the golden light of an eternal dawn
Breaks through the groves and meadows
Gilding the wings of soaring eagles
And haloing a dwelling
And to this dwelling
The traveler’s eyes are drawn
His world-weary eyes are satisfied
And the longing wells
In his soul like tears of the ocean
The doors are all flung open
The windows all a-jar
For him
And with a swiftness
Of a renewed soul
The traveler nears the house
And the darkness
Of the former lands
Are forgotten
The worries and cares
Are erased
His memory
Is only for this dwelling
In the celestial valley
How often his soul
Dreamed of this place
How often his Friend
Would whisper to him
Of its beauty and peace
And before the grand house he comes
With no fear of rejection
Nor hesitation in his mind
But as a son coming home
To those who love him
And think of him by day
And by night
And he enters
And the welcome
Is a fulfillment of all hope
That was ever hoped
And he is embraced
By those who have longed
For his arrival
And the celebration is sweet
And his wounds are dressed
By the Faithful Friend
The Balm of Gilead
Eases the pain
And blisters heal
And the bruises disappear
And the traveler’s dusty
Garments are exchanged
For the white raiment
Of the Household
And the son
Sees familiarity everywhere
There is nothing unknown
Every crevice in the house
Comes into focus
As if from a dream
From a recollection imprinted
On his heart
And the longing
Once burning, hurting
Is now
Satisfied and redeemed
And it rests as a quiet song
In the son’s heart
A hymn of salvation

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