I'm thinking of home quite often these days. So much so that it's the topic I kept returning to while trying to finish the poetry stretch this week. This draft is not a great poem, but it's certainly full of emotion.
It's Just GeographyI suppose I shouldn't mope too much. I kept thinking of TadMack while writing this and began to feel absolutely silly about my glumness. She is, after all, separated from her loved ones by an ocean. Mine are only a few states away. (Sorry, Tanita! I am thinking of you and sending good thoughts your way!)
It’s just geography I tell myself,
but looking at this map the distance grows.
Five hundred miles and more to bridge the gap,
that separates the home I’ve built from one
I’ve long felt deep inside my bones--that place
that carries me to childhood reverie.
Just stepping through the door and seeing in
blue blankets, photos, furniture and more,
old memories made plain before my eyes.
But I’m so far away from you these days,
I curse the word geography and wish
with eyes clamped shut, to make now disappear
the mountains, rivers, valleys and the states,
that bar the path to journeys to the north.
In dreams I look across this landscape bare,
to gaze from windows here to see that place,
and momentarily return back home.
You can read more blank verse in this week's poetry stretch results.
Ach, Tricia! The other day I looked at a pomegranate and wept because the ones on my parent's tree are more red...
ReplyDeleteSometimes... the ocean AND the whole world seems between myself and home. When home is just where you want to be, perhaps the best thing you can do for yourself is tell yourself that where you are is temporary. It may be that by the time you get where you CAN go back, you'll have adjusted. "Three more years!" I tell myself. It's always an adventure, but adventure is not always fun...
Meanwhile, my blank verse is much less developed than yours; I keep trying, but I'm not going to be able to post it again this week. I AM playing along, however! Just somewhat unsuccessfully...!