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If God is any great returning,
a listening to some new witness
bidding within,
any hard going back
to where in a rootless time
you quit,
as Bonhoeffer left life in New York
to return to his death in a Nazi jail,
so that now it’s your turn
at the bitter feast of eating crow,
saying I’m sorry
to every cynical hello
after your selfish goodbye; If God is any great returning,
your soul’s yearning,
lobely and longing
for the path lost or deserted,
for cause dropped from infancy
as too childish, too hard, too frail,
too sure to fail to bother,
but now of your life,
your death; If God is any great returning
and your burning soul
has spun your compass about
so that you are finally en route home
like the prodigal,
then go quickly
expecting to feast with the Father
even though your wining brother
may not yet dine with you
and in truth
awaits proof, even as he should,
that you are really home
for good.