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.