He said He was leaving home. He said, "Father Sky has not been kind to me." He said, "I do not send letters anymore, I forgot the address."
He kept seashells in His pockets but never answered the worried phone calls from Mother Ocean.
He had a map but did not know how to read it. He coughed up a broken compass. West was any direction away from Kansas City.
So, we drove. We sat under redwood shadows where Father Sky couldn't watch.
We made love to the light of the stars. He said this made His Father angry. With the sunrise the strong winds chased us further away.
We visited the Mother Ocean. He submerged himself, and let her rinse salt through wounds left by the Father Sky.
Once, it rained. So we danced and we celebrated the Father Sky's grief. I wondered if the water meant the Sky missed his son. He said, "My Father cannot feel remorse."
The next day, the home I built in Him was empty. He left a letter with no return address. He said, "I'm going home."
Sera's Poetry 