A Journey Home
A letter to the reader:
This poem reflects the journey of a soul seeking authenticity, love, and understanding within both the church and the world. It explores the tension between the comfort of home and the longing for real connection. May it remind us that the true essence of faith is found not just in buildings, but in the love and authenticity we carry with us wherever we go.
The doors, the steeple, and the worst?
The people.
A place designed to keep us safe,
a world viewed with fear and trepidation.
A home to all,
a building to most,
Instant coffee flows in clear, dark glass.
We stand together,
we talk alone,
and we never eat more than candyfloss.
A little girl is confused.
She wanders
Coffee glasses seen again,
this time somehow more welcoming.
I see her face,
she is the woman who brought me here.
Somewhere more peaceful,
you can feel warmth.
It’s not just a building,
it’s love flows through its pou tuarongo up into its roof,
holding me inside.
Shoes vulnerable to the elements,
mattresses together,
We sing.
A little girl is confused.
‘If we were the body,
why aren't his arms reaching,
why aren't his hands healing,
why aren't his words teaching,
and if we are the body
why aren't his feet going?
Feet that take me further away,
feet that wander in curiosity and excitement
for the world really isn’t the place it was said to be.
Feet that hold a girl wanting to be loved,
wanting to understand,
wanting to see more of Jesus throughout a community,
for isn’t that the point?
A church guarding it’s doors,
but is it not our job to be placed in a world untold?
Be IN the world but not OF it he said.
Doors holding meetings,
judgment given,
her dress was too short,
his hair too unruly,
they never seem to arrive on time.
A home showing dust, dirt,
Yet life surrounds it,
Loudness,
Yet no pride,
Love
But without conditions.
A little girl is confused.
Her feet wander further,
love in her home,
she feels his spirit
but she wants more.
Stories of burning bushes,
rocks thrown at giants,
a man whose comeback story changes the world.
A little girl is confused.
Tables thrown in market places,
emotion freely expressed.
A home alike the one she feels to be genuine,
Emotions freely expressed
Vociferous families showing authenticity as if in scarcity.
A little girl is confused.
Her feet wander
her eyes see a world,
sparkly lights,
glitter,
beauty that would take your breath away,
she is captivated.
Realness is something she has known,
it is something she craves.
She searches,
flights booked,
suitcase at hand and a mother with no idea,
she leaves.
A little girl is confused.
Her stories like no other,
‘your different,
there's something about you,
your not like the others’
She sees sunsets,
beaches and people so far from the ones she knows,
she hears accents
and is immersed in cultures foreign to her upbringing.
Spotlights on her,
she feels alone.
Her isolation becomes her normal
and she lays down
knowing the next morning
will bring her coffee in a mug she despises.
She prays.
Lord, I want to come home.
‘You twit, just come home’’
she hears her voice,
the coffee now in another mug
is warm,
the dogs,
slightly bigger this time.
She leaves a world she searched so very hard in
for the realness she grew up with.
A community is made,
the church is entered with nervousness,
not for Jesus
but for the fear of candyfloss.
A little girl understands.
She has found her place at last.