I Am Found

I drop to my knees on the side of the road

Of this long forgotten place

I gather the filthy,

Long abandoned bundle

this fragment of faith

dust and dirt covered surface.

Still, I clutch it to my chest,

Certain there must have been something

More than the religion of my parents

Hands shaking around the memory

Of blinding fear and shame

I say to the spirit that bears the good fruits:

Please grow your tree in me

I want a faith that doesn’t feel rote

I want to be the wind blowing through

the alter of my ancestors

I want to melt this bundle down

to silver flowing water,

I want to lay down in the river

And rise up to something ancient,

mist from His hands

Into my hands, into her.

All of life is coming around: A traveler

Returning home and finding truth buried.

My prayer is a deep breath acceptance:

A faith to live and die for. And live again.