The Way Home

When He molded our generation from stars and dust
Clay and tears
Blood and bone
Flood and fire
Sand and oil

Love and betrayal
What was He thinking?
Shoved down from the mountain and into the abyss
Far from home into a strange wasteland
Mountains cracked and oozing vengeance
Earth’s silent whispers of lineage lost in the explosion
Tales untold
Rivers of lost souls crying for refuge
Unfamiliar faces
From the threshold of our home there are no traces
What was He thinking?
Marriages and homes destroyed in a blaze of fire and fury
Children snatched from their mother in the dead of night
Families erased
Lives forgotten
Memories scribbled in error with a shaky hand and fading vision
What was He thinking?
Left no instructions,
No road map,
No parachute,
As the angels cry from the heavens and dampen the earth
As my resolve melts like the green icing in Macarthur’s Park.
I wonder: Father, what were You thinking?
Like Hannah, I beseech you.
Like Job, I praise you.
Like Myself, as always, I am devoted to you.
Tell me father: What were You thinking?
What were You thinking when you took my life
and exchanged it for another.
Dear God,
It’s me, again.
Can I come home?

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