My community grows out of my hermit cell.
A cell that’s true to me.
Not a cancerous clot of death.
My part grows out of my hermit soul.
A soul that’s bravely me.
Not a shadow play of past.
My voice grows out of my hermit heart.
A heart that melts the ice.
I drop my distant cold attire.
I drop my distant cold attire.
My road forms in front of my hermit eyes.
My eyes that see immediately.
When the filter ‘I’ allows.
My church cries aloud a hermit prayer.
A prayer I have heard before.
But now I choose to listen.
And God takes his hermit back.
His embrace erases all harm.
It’s ‘I’ who leaves.
But I don’t want to leave anymore.
For I know the difference between death and life.
And a hermit’s human heart’s home spreads over the horizon.