For me, love of religion was first love
of Ceylon (now Sri Lanka). I moved there
when I was nine, and lived there for two years
with my mother and diplomat father.
Read More "Roy Herndon Smith: Mourning Serendip: Part I–Mourning Serendip: Chapter 1– Mourning"
This post introduces a book I am writing, Mourning Serendip. I will be posing chapters of this book as I am writing it.
Below is an excerpt:
this book is about
religion, which means
it’s about what is
going down here, now
between you and me
which means “about” is
misleading, a lie
we are never “out”
of religion as
existence coming
together to form
itself as a whole
through us, in us, as
us, as not us, as
Mary’s home today.
When she walks from room to room,
her slippers rustle
I was walking in
the early evening when Tash
ran up with a stick,
I sit on the steps
looking over the back yard.
Dad has been gone for
The pups get into
it sometimes when Mother’s out.
I get between them.
Kismet had red hair
like your hair and, like you, he
liked to stretch awake
