Holy Town

I thought I could see the lights tonight.

The lights of that far off town I think of as home.

A  town built on an ancient horses back out of bricks and dust and faith.

A town that remembers the day that dam broke

And the days I broke down and damned it.

A town that feels like the ocean towns I knew in my youth

But is set amongst the mountains and volcanoes of the high desert.

Yes tonight as I glanced over this city of the sinners and the sinless

I thought I saw the lights.

I thought if I looked far enough north

Far enough into the heart of things

I could see that town.

The town that feels like a friend.

The town that means safety.

The town that means I am worth something.

But I was wrong.

I couldn’t see that town.

All I could see were the far off lights of some tower of commerce.

But it didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter that I couldn’t see the one thing that matters.

Because I know it’s still there.

That holy ground is still caked with the footprints of wandering disciples.

The mud and dirt and dust is mixed with the love and heat and passion

Of those wandering pilgrims who found their way there.

I’m one of those wandering pilgrims.

And when I think of that town

Of that lonely desert island oasis

The bottoms of my feet hum

Remembering the way it felt to walk through that holy town.