Home
(written by me, Sept 8, 2000)
Longing to go back and
pick up the pieces of me
I left behind
every childhood memory, every teenage heartbreak
every step, every tear, every laugh
echoing off of blank walls
dark hallways, empty rooms
Wanting to go back and breathe life
once more
into what my mind now only knows
longing to make it real again
to make sure the memory is not lost
as if I could touch it, smell it
breathe it -
the life that I lived there -
and rest, knowing it still lives
But, knowing I cannot live life again
cannot go back, just to see,
I wander
homeless, homesick
unsure where to end my wandering
My home
no longer mine
growing in my heart
bursting, swelling
longing to be planted
somewhere, someday
1 comment:
Enjoy your trip! Stafford isn't the same at all, but it's still recognizable. It's been a couple of years since I was there last. Kind of wish I could go for a visit, my mom still lives in the harbor.
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