by Sean O’Neill

The homelessness of body and of mind
that stretches like a pennant in the dark
and snaps among our breezy storms, confined
in all our longings and our aches that spark

with scars and brunted tissue like a bruise
which time cannot erase or bring to naught,
escapes from every daylong trudge and screws
its dagger to the breast of every thought.

That faint unease that strengthens in its time
thus hammers home that this is not our place.
And all the high ambition of our prime
has faded so that now we find no trace.

We look to find a better home at last
where God unmakes the errors of our past.

Sean O’Neill was born in Scotland, but has lived in the USA for the past 15 years and is a lay minister of a church in Lansing, Michigan. He has had poetry published in a variety of journals, including First Things, The Ottawa Literary Review, Living Bulwark, Reformed Journal, Clay Jar Review and American Literary. Sean has published 17 collections of poetry and is the author of five novels and four non-fiction books, including the bestselling How To Write a Poem: A Beginner’s Guide. He runs the Kolbitars Poetry Group in Lansing, Michigan, USA.

Leave a Reply

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

You are commenting using your 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