Last year for Lent instead of giving up

coffee, chocolate, fried chicken I packed

a single bag and ran away from home.

Irish monks used to begin pilgrimage

by rowing to the middle of the river

then tossing their oars overboard.

One day in the middle of my journey

I woke to find forgotten fears staring

over my shoulder in the morning mirror.

I heard the whisper of an unfulfilled promise,

felt the pull of earth’s gravity upon my feet

increasing the traction of my soul.

Even Jesus wandered off, yes he did,

knowing that only the lost can be found,

only wanderers ever find their true home.