Stowaway

It is not a think you pretend to understand,
how home can be a place so far away,
rarely visited, how love can grow
from afar, how God can be here and there
at the same time.

It is as if distance has lost it’s power to separate
and you live in a world without logic,
at least not a logic you can grasp.
And so you live in the moment,
accepting the gifts of the God without limits,
going along for the ride, a stowaway

welcomed, and grateful,
even in the storms,
even in the doldrums,
sure that even if there is no destination yet,
there will be.

About this poem.

Today’s rain, a remnant of the hurricane, has me thinking of Venice, the place I have felt more at home than anywhere in the world. I wooed the woman I love from hours away. And God? Well by definition God is everywhere. Don’t ask me to explain any of them. But I can not deny them. But the path to acceptance has left me living more in the moment than I ever thought possible.

The picture of course, is of Venice.

Tom