i don't know how to call this place home but i'm trying
i don’t know how to call this place home but i’m trying.
*
it’s a slow burn
a diffuse aching yearn
a scattered pulsing with no beginning or end.
waiting
always waiting
for the stars to align
for worlds to collide
for the moment
when the light turns green.
visions made manifest,
dreams put to rest,
values put to the test -
time is a circle here
that unravels in all directions
like a ball of yarn
dropped on the living room floor.
*
i miss the rain
but i hate umbrellas
i don’t know how to call this place home but i’m trying.
*
the sidewalk sizzles
and the horizon yawns
mornings are crisp but the days are hazy.
am i lazy or just uptight?
is it all a bunch of ado about nothing
plucking at chords just to hit a nerve
i’m used to sharp corners
i don’t know how to slow down for the curve.
*
i want to be in it
near the beating heart
but as soon as i’m there
i want to crawl back to where i came from -
that’s why they said i’d love it here.
but was that me who would love it here
a relic of the past
a copyright infringement
a version steeped in fear?
*
oh well
the deed is done
sometimes decisions are just decisions
i heard someone say
just a thing you do because you must
do something.
*
does time pause for you like a right on red
like the moment of clarity right before bed?
i don’t know how to let go but i’m trying.
*
i’m used to flying, to up and leaving
i kicked myself out of the nest
its the staying, its the settling
the long afternoons sinking into the cracks of the couch
that haven’t yet found their groove in the pockets of my brain.
*
my mom makes a home, but I’ve only managed a house.
the countertops don’t glean with quite the same shine
i don’t understand rugs (don’t they just collect dust?)
but they really pull it all together, i’m told.
*
i’ve yet to find a place to rest
so i build sturdy forts in my mind
i don’t know how to call another place home but i’m trying.
*
sometimes a house is a house
and a home is within
and we live and we breathe and we eat and
we laugh and we give away our heavy coats
and we shed our skin and we cut our cords
*
we exchange our foothills for valleys
our grey for blue
and nothing is set in stone
every reality reversible
and sometimes here is just here
and that is where we are
and i don’t know how to call this place home,
but i’m trying.
*
xx mm