Return to the Lord
The path back home is always uphill,
Facing back the way you came.
The path back home seems infinitely dreary
No pleasures line the streets.
The path back home may be washed with tears
Or dry as the last, stark desert.
The path back home is the path of the desperate –
Everything else has been tried;
Or perhaps the path of the small child
Who found a monster out of doors.
But, for most,
The path back home is the path of the weary,
World-weary with the long, slow pain of life,
Weary of breath, but afraid of dying,
Too tired to argue any more.
The path back home is a slow unwinding
Of the winding sheet about the inmost corpse,
Facing decay, yet fearing resurrection,
Unless Love changes all.
The path back home is the final acknowledgement:
We die outside of Love.
The path back home is a path of splendour,
Where angels tread with awe.
Cherubim and seraphim
Watch the miracle recur:
The stumbling, broken failure
A beloved child come home.