Inner Refuge
by Odin Roark

Are the voices of fearless hope forever lost,
leaving only tears to bathe the disheartened?

Reality prevails, even as we long for the innocence of heroic action,
where framed honors are not meant for some,
instead, nothing but the crusted mud of experience to nail on the wall.

Such are the thoughts of those dying,
longing only to escape the suffering of life?

Yet…

Everyone longs for the home that makes it safe to just be.
But for many, such a place remains adrift, like an empty boat, oarless, lifeless.

Sadly, for many, death seems the only sanctuary from the panic of losing their sense of reasoning.

Might those who dare seek out that place,
where stripped away layers of protection
might find their internal compass pointing
in yet another unexpected direction?

And is that direction
seen only by those whose discarded armor,
and the shedding of mud caked insulation,
leap across the precipitous abyss with abandonment
into their next iteration?

What drives us to leave behind the learned habit of place and protection
into unknown destinations?

Is it enigmatic, this home we seek
void of assumed walls and roof?

Is home only beneath the nakedness of the unassuming,
where a vulnerable essence beckons we enter?

What if the finding of one’s inner-refuge
be but the end result of this life’s circuitous journey,
creating an emboldened readiness for the next?