A Portable Existence

Today, a funeral, the last aunt of my husband. I know where she is now, dancing and singing in her new home with all her siblings.

A Portable Existence

II Corinthians 5:1 “Our bodies are like tents…”

Nomads we pack our tents daily,
never knowing where we’ll stay
the night.

Each tent embroidered with
the work of our lives.
We pack our hopes for paradise…

Shaking out our tents
under an eternal sky,
heaven’s watchful eye
we crawl inside our shame,
we murmur the holy name.

The wind blows abandoned tents
—sheets, kiting in the torrents.
We come home into buildings
that never roam.

c. Darlene Moore Berg



Filed under Religious

2 responses to “A Portable Existence

  1. Dear Darlene,

    Blessings to you and your husband.

    I turn to the same Bible verses for comfort. Thanks for your good poem.

  2. lori

    Dear Darlene,
    Your poem helps to take away the scary unknown feeling of death and to bring an anticipation to our minds for the day we have our turn to put on the “new.”

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