by Dan Sturn
I, the Catholic Buddhist, return to the original Liturgy . . . relieved.
As I climbed up in the golden state,
I didn’t think much of my fate.
If asked so rarely, who am I?
I would answer “about seventy-five feet high.”
But all that has now changed,
the material goal is estranged.
Doesn’t matter what I now do,
No longer ask what or why, just who.
I am the father and the son,
the man who could have won,
but left the game we play,
to live with love, and pray.
But that’s what I was taught,
in the church of should and ought,
makes me ask “what gives?”
and recognize her—