Holy longing

On vacation I witnessed
birds and whales
that had traveled farther than I.

They take with them
their memories, their songs
and the sacred longing

that guides their migrations,
that leads me
in all my rambling,

the silent knowing
that seems like hunger,
seems like not knowing,

the sure desultory path
that is life, the way
that is the blessing,

the holy wandering
to life that awaits,
always toward you.


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