she said,
how can I do everything as if
it is an offering to god?

what does it mean 
to offer something to god?
what is god anyways?

this spark in me, perhaps,
it is not “mine”
but a spark that propels me
in a direction
that meets it’s hum.

like a needle of a compass
meets the magnetism of 
true north.
A point inside that 
doesn’t need
eyes or ears
or nose or skin
or taste or
mind
to navigate 
this galaxy worth
of unknown.

Is a pilgrimage simply
the willingness
to follow that?
Despite all odds?
And to meet 
these odds
as if they were not odds.
not warnings to turn around
and 
un-listen.
but lessons with gifts to offer,
each one
containing the key 
and the gate, the map
to the next.

…or maybe not.

And where are we going?
perhaps home. 

Why do we do this?
Is there anything else
more important?
Anything else more
clear than mud?

We went through a 
loop in the forest.
The trail literally looped, 
we got lost
and looped again.
unsure. 
….did we do this before?
….is this happening again?
yes. yes.
definitely.

I am down here covered in shit…
Is there anyone out there
that can see 
from above?
it’s so mucky…
What is happening here?
I may start to panic.
a little. 
maybe begin to 
take this personal. 
can we make our way to the top?
Is there anyone one out there 
that can get a clear view?
Of where I am?
Where you are?

What’s beyond 
this stink hole?

A birds-eye view would help
greatly.
In navigating this mess.

Where is home anyways?
Is this it?
This is it. 

-by Kendra Renzoni

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