On a recent late Saturday afternoon, after a day in boats on the sea, we went to church. While my friend offered his confession, I strolled the periphery of the old building. The alcoves where the Stations of the Cross, the synoptic 14 state story of Christ's accusation, trial and crucifixion, had once been placed now stood empty. The gloomy light of the votive candles, the rarified slant of late winter sun through stained glass, the muted ambience of high vaulted ceilings conspired to make this absence palpable: I (long an apostate) felt oddly chastened—the more so for the purple raiment of the alter linen, the smells of beeswax and frankincense and worn wood—and was transported to the chiaroscura of my childhood, who had just revelled in the broad horizons and sharp salt smells, the clear sky and endless depths of sea that have become the arenas of my prodigal life.

..........................................................just a fluke
..........................................................returning to the deep . . .
..........................................................do I believe in God?

Jim Kacian is a co-founder of the World Haiku Association, as well as owner of Red Moon Press and editor of Frogpond, the international membership journal of the Haiku Society of America. He has published six books of haiku, and is working towards a second novel. For more information, read Richard Gilbert's essay: Global Haiku and the Work of Jim Kacian.