In life, if we are honest, the liminal
now seems continual.
We think we have arrived
but then grateful to have survived,
but wondering what is next.
We feel constricted in the chest.
Systems are upset
and patterns beyond stressed.
For history’s saints, the liminal is home.
in the in-between, they roamed.
Sometimes they did the upsetting.
and paid a price for society’s spiritual vetting.
The question now is upon us.
Will we see this moment as a plus
or clamor for the un-regainable past
and futilely grab for that which has passed,
never to return? And so we look
to those who lived by a seemingly different book,
who guide us into the future to cope,
giving us courage and gladness and hope.
Under the Bodhi Tree and where saints roamed,
for us in the confines of the home —
still, we wander through the spiritual desert
in the liminal with them in concert.
No longer will we glance back, the past to exalt,
lest we all turn into pillars of salt.
*idea from a meditation by Richard Rohr, April