Wandering East of Eden

I've been wandering east of Eden 

For what feels like 40 years,

But if there's a divine mandate to follow

What it might be remains unclear. 

Am I being punished? Purified?

Abandoned like an unwanted puppy? 

Is the Promised Land out here somewhere, 

Or has wandering left me truly lost?


I've collapsed by the well,

But I don't have a bucket to drink. 

I'm finally ready to start healing, 

But the world around me is putrid;

Open sores and closed hearts.

Anger and hate breeding discord.

Fear and anxiety, Flight and fight.


Every step feels further away. 

Further from myself, further from you. 

I feel like a whitewashed tomb;

I'm trying to put good into the world, 

But on the inside I feel diseased and dead.

I'm following the rumors of where Christ has been, 

But I haven't seen so much as God's backside. 

I need to see your face, but I'm afraid of the mirror

In case it's waiting there. 


I'm wandering; am I lost? 

The gold doesn't glitter and the roots are frostbit,

The embers barely still smolder.

The pieces look too broken to reassemble.

All the same I've got my compass out

Trying to find west in this storm.

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