A Poem: A Home

That you would choose me?
As your abode.
This earthly rustic home.

The trees make for you
a cathedral
in their heavenly reach,

I could not hope
with clay-bound feet
to emulate.

But the birds still fly,
and the oceans move
in this flimsy construct of mine.

Within which, mathematics
makes no sense,
nor surface appearances,

or the measurements
science has taught us
to trust.

In this place
heaven exists both within,
and without.

And you are forever breaking
the boundaries
of my understanding.

And instead of an altar
I‘ve made you a home,
where together we break bread.

And I note how the light shines
through broken walls,
to illuminate the spaces where we sit.

Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
September 2018

 


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s