Going home
by Elouise
Maybe it’s the steady march
of autumn fading into brown
Or birds migrating south
in twos and threes and twelves
Then again it may be nothing
more than daylight diminishing
into shades of deepening night
Unexpectedly I wake up
anticipating the unthinkable
bidding farewell to this world
sinking below and beyond
the horizon into unending day
finally at home and at peace
Writing these words troubles me
Has deep discontent wormed its way
into my soul?
Yet there it sits.
This world of aching beauty and sorrow
will not be my home forever
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 23 October 2017
Photo found at pinterest; taken by David Allen Photography
Sunset from Clingman’s Dome, Great Smokey Mountains, North Carolina
Telling the Truth 
❤ ❤ ❤ I can see why that picture drew your eye. More self poetry and introspection, sending peace and love and lots of hugs to lift your spirits with this autumn in pursuit of winter….sigh, the season of melancholy darkness was never my choice, give me light 🙂 and light 🙂 I always dreaded the seasons change…..
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Thank you, Kim. Yes–there’s something about each season that invites what I hope will, for me, be fruitful introspection. I may want to live to be 100, but then again….:)
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well I’m hoping for 100 for you too 🙂 me, I’d settle to go out smiling when they’re ready for me 🙂
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wondering why writing those words troubled you, friend? Does “discontent” include believing – really believing, even longing for the truth at which passages like Phil 3:20-21 hint? Love you.
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Hi Nancy. The troubling is the pain of knowing that leaving this world means leaving behind my dearest family members and friends….to say nothing about this ever so beautiful world as well as the not so beautiful things our children and grandchildren are already inheriting. This struggle runs throughout Scripture. But saying out loud, in writing no less, that I am indeed discontent enough to ponder being free of it doesn’t sit well with me. Even though all is well with my soul. I think I have a bit of Ecclesiastes 12 in my veins these days! Not a bad thing, and also not a thrilling place to be. 💜
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I hear you. I believe the love and connection between us and our dearest ones is eternal…that gives me comfort. I believe that the beauty of this world is incomparable to LIVING the answer to Jesus’ prayer: that where he is we may also be. I imagine how my parents feel, so aware of their failing health and how “not with the times” they are, while loving us all so deeply…they are so tired – it feels to me like they can both love us, and bless us, and be ready to go Home all at one time. But Bruce on the other hand doesn’t feel “ready to go”, even though his body must feel like it’s fighting against him sometimes. You’ve really got me thinking. Maybe the clincher is a desire “to wash our hands of it all” in light of all that, as you say, our children and grandchildren are already inheriting? What is the alternative to “washing our hands of it all”?
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Good question, Nancy. It seems that if we sit on our hands and do nothing to show mercy, seek justice and walk humbly with God, we’re already washing our hands of it all. Leaving it to the next generations to figure out. I don’t mean joining big movements, etc. I’m talking about the small, daily practices that without fanfare, embody our commitment and desire for something better. God hears and sees all of it, and, I believe, has given us time and space to do what we can with what we have. Maybe all some can do is pray daily for a situation. Others may be able to do more. Whatever it is, it’s a way of responding to our discontent, rather than simply (as you put it), washing our hands of it–which can amount to looking the other way, giving up, apathy, and ultimately silent collusion.
I’m struck by Paul’s comment about ‘learning’ to be content in every situation. He was caught in difficult, unplanned and unjust situations, and struggled with his own desire to be done with it all, rather than dealing in some way with situations that brought him discontent. From another angle, these periods of discontent that come and go could also be reminders that this world is not our ultimate home, even though we must do our bit while we’re here. I think Jesus knew about this, too.
Thanks for your thought-provoking question!
Elouise
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I often wonder when trying to read/understand your poetry/poems, whether you actually do enjoy living; or spend too much time worrying about what will happen to you, when you die.
I don’t have that problem, and I don’t believe there is anything missing, or remiss, in my not having that problem.
I go to bed at night and if I awaken the following morning, fine, enjoy the day.
If I don’t, and forget to awaken, c’est la vie or should that be mort?
Always better to enjoy and embrace what we have, rather than worry about something we really have no control over whatsoever. Except if you live in places like Oregon 🙂
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Hey Brian! It sounds like you’re worrying about me 🙂 I love life. I have no worries about what will happen after I die. I’ll admit I don’t want to die a horribly painful death. Who does? Nonetheless, if that’s what it’s going to be, that’s what it will be. I can’t control that. I’m not sure how you’ve picked up this idea about my poems. Death is definitely a theme–because it’s part of our everyday life.
Whenever a friend dies, as Margie did not so many weeks ago, it gets me thinking about how much death affects the way we live from one day to the next. And it does show up in my writing. I also have friends who’ve had to evacuate their homes due to crazy wildfires in California. And family members who endured recent hurricanes in Houston and in Florida. And a former colleague from Puerto Rico whose beloved island is now devastated. And yes, our daughter and her husband live in Oregon! 🙂
So…here’s to a lovely day in Australia and here in Pennsylvania!
Elouise 🙂
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