It was a long journey home
From the great Eastern front
My sword in its sheath
And shield on my back
Senseless death In a land not our own
Now I return as a shell of myself
The faces of dead men
Hide behind my eyelids
I trudge through unfamiliar streets
Changed by the long decade past
I find it stranger than the far land
I was now returning from
All the great temples
Have been torn down
The God I worshiped
No where to be seen
Brothels and markets
Now stand in places of worship
They tell me the temple
At Anol Mihn yet stands
So I set out for it
Up into the great hills
I take my time on the trek
Unsure of many things
That I used to hold dear,
That I trusted as absolute
The stone path is worn
Overgrown and treacherous
Yet after three days' journey
I arrived at my destination

The temple stood in disrepair
The doors stripped from it
Light shining through holes
And cracks in the high ceiling
I came and bowed to my knees
Before the imposing statue
Of my now forgotten God
Maybe for minutes
Or perhaps long hours
I sat before it
Thinking, praying
If one could call it such
Seeking the one
Who my people had forgotten
Questioning all I had done
And if it was enough
Where I could call home
Now that my home has abandoned
All I once held dear
Yet the statue before me
Sat deafeningly silent

The light shifted slowly
Imperceptibly the pure light
Became gilded rays
As the evening sun sank
Illuminating the thick dust
Hanging weighlessly in the air
I stood up as the light faded
And stepped out side
The twilight had come
And with it I journeyed
Further into the hills
Until I found a grassy place
To rest my weary body
As well as my weary soul
The stars became visible
As I sat down I turned my gaze
To the endless heavens above
I laid my pack beside me
Then laid myself down
In soft untouched grass
Gripped between my fingers
Then closed my eyes

Praying my God may come
In but a whisper
To tell me what to do
To show me the way I just go
And what to do now
That everything I know
Has fallen apart
I cried, and waiting
Spoke and prayed
Yet no answer came
Not in all the long hours of night
I laid there in the hills

Before the morning came I arose
I heard the birds in the bushes and trees
I saw the grass blow in the breeze
I felt the sun bring warmth to my cheeks
And I stood up to survey the earth
To witness if I had any worth
For a moment I stood and then I heard
A voice my own yet not my word
From deep within an answer came
Not from one I knew and not the same
As the God whom I claimed to believe
But He spoke and said He is in me
Or perhaps I said it myself
The voice was distinctly my own
But did not come from me
At least not the me I knew

like my guitar
and your eyes
and the way you looked that night
and the stars in June
in the big Vermont sky
and the way my heart
always shined around yours.

and from a distance
i counted the pigments etched on your face,
your mother was a good painter.
in the windows of my eyes,
i connected the dots,
traced them,
articulated them,
to the point i found big dipper
near the creases
of your eye brows,
i found orion
beside the stretch of your smile,
and virgo
rested against your cheek.
you brought the entire
constellation in this room.

and from a distance,
i stargazed.