Tuesday, April 07, 2009


My friend was tired. He needed to go home. What does 'home' mean to us at such moments? One day, each one of us, in Christ, will be able to truly come home.

Here the day’s load unbuttons. We slough off
Our formal faces and our rigid smiles
To curl ourselves in kindness like a snail.

Here, with ears shut to Hades’ hectoring,
We hear, instead, a softer, meeker tune
The rhythm of love kneeling down to serve.

Here we retreat from this world’s battering
Here we can laugh in honest, open fun
Eyes meeting eyes that smile and understand.

Here, so at rest we need no fancy dress,
Hands reach for hands across the gulf of self
And clasp, content to simply wait a while.

1 comment:

Kraxpelax said...

I enjoyed the calm flow of this poem.

Excuse my haste, but time is running out.

Personal announcement!

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-Best wishes,
Peter Ingestad, Sweden