Spiritual poems and ponderings

Exile

Judah has gone into Exile

She dwells among the nations

She finds no resting place

 

One day I wake and find that suddenly I don’t belong

Suddenly everything I was sure of seems to be a distant memory

A foreigner in my own town

A stranger in my own land

What makes it my own?

What makes a place a home?

Birth, blood, or something beyond?

 

Foxes have holes and birds have nests

But the Son of Man has nowhere to rest His head

 

Will we follow?

Will we follow?

Will we follow?

 

To a place of non-belonging

To a lack of home

To a restless wandering

To incredible weakness

And dependence on others

 

Will we lose even our name, that the only name that matters can be stamped on our hearts?

Will we GO? Cross margins and travel to the margins and beyond?

And STAY…

In that uncomfortable place

Of straddling worlds

Wrestling with our identity

Laying down and taking up and counting the cost

And then perhaps RETURN –

Changed

And find ourselves in a different kind of exile,

One we were not expecting.

 

Maybe it doesn’t matter how we got here

Maybe it doesn’t even matter that we were there

Maybe what matters is the seeking

That we don’t give up and despair

Even if I make my bed in the depths

You are there

 

When everything that we linked to the presence of God disappears…

How will we worship?

And how will we pray?

When all is stripped away

What do our hearts say?

Is there a deeper truth to be found

Buried beneath our rites and rituals

That may have lost their meaning

Diverted into religion

When we forgot our first love?

 

When we find the old answers do not fit the questions that now burn on our lips

Will we look beyond the walls and discover something priceless?

A new glimpse of mystery

Hear the whisper that urges us to step into deeper water

Because nothing in the shallows seems worth the safety anymore

Where we’ll question all over again.

And rough edges will be worn down, if we let them

And we’ll be carriers of something precious

Clay jars leaking treasure

Poets and prophets that point to hope for the future

 

Katrina Quinn, 2010



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