Georgi Y. Johnson

In the place we call home
cool Carmel rock shelters
wounds of warriors and slaves,
staking refuge in nations.
New homes crafted on ruins
draped with timeless shock,
as if, in leaving this place
we forgot pieces of ourselves

This is a mortal place
a blaze of nature
and vengeful memory
the scattered crumbs
of homes torn open.
Too easy to fathom
the normality of life,
tea and politeness;
the desert heart-beat of days.
Do the dead know borders?

Yearning through earth’s etheric
nature is a refuge to itself.
Here can we sense the
wind-born kiss that moved Elijah?

Yes. We too nursed vengeance,
Like you, sliced good and bad.
Like you, we find ourselves
in this subtle garden
Pathetic and human.

Let’s pass over.
Together, with melting flesh,
Cherubin of fear and mind
Absorbing freedom
where beasts drink freely,
newly named;
blossom of almond trees
incarnation of joy;
and man and wife
in seamless unity.

We are thistles, rock and sky,
moving waters christening sea breeze.
Purified by sun, we are dog
mindlessly charging space.
We are this hawk
hovered in stillness,
a blue core of divinity-
playground of angels.

It seems so simple now.
No sacrifice, terror or rage
no big bang of dreadful judgement
no measure of pain
will rampart Eden’s gates.

Only soft, invisible longing
to blend with living;
love finer than changing worlds;
only peace in sweet ponds
timelessly waiting
as the word “other” lacks momentum
and we welcome ourselves

Only then, Eden comes to us,
Refuge, sanctuary and bliss.

(This poem was first published in the spiritual anthology Into the Furthest Reaches, edited by Jay Ramsay)



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