Starting Point

The place where I started can be found
among chewed pencil stubs marking the moment

     between moments marked by pencil scribbles
     noting the time when boring entered my lexicon.

I first said boring the time when I was born,
apologetically to my mother as she screamed.

     I have since apologized to my mother
     for all the times when I made her cry.

Secular folks are not the only ones to cry,
begging for a sign that reads, Smile, Sinner.

     There are signs smiling all across this Land
     around which we circle seeking our home.

Sometimes going around in circles
I never find the place where I started.

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