Homecoming

 

 

Low stone fence and behind it

A small patch of yellowing grass,

Some tired plants in ceramic pots

Tree we planted when the girls were young,

Is now looming over the yard.

Crushed granite walkway still

Leads to a wide entrance of

Red brick, and a door that

 No longer wears our names.

I put my ear to the door and listen,

Echoes of laughter dispersing, spraying,

 Ringing, bright and jingly.

Small feet tapping up and down the stairs,

A delightful jumble of kids and toys,

Barking dogs and sleepy cats,

Perfect harmony of banging doors and

 Slamming windows, is it still there?

I knock and hold my breath.

The hand marks of strangers

Everywhere I look,

Do I know this place that seems

The same, yet so altered

My eyes swim around,

Looking for a familiar spot,

An anchor, to secure myself to,

In these alien walls that

Once I called home.

Giants

And I am ready, I know,
this time I will see them.
My face pressed against the window,
my eyes following the foaming brook,
running from side to side.
I am riding an angry snake,
twisting from side to side,
hissing and spitting smoke.
Now the trumpet boast,
against the mountains,
breaking into sharp slivers.
I repeat the words like a mantra,
over and over in my head,
The Valley of the Giants.
The valley of giants.
The blaring sound of the ho
 echoing back, giants…giants…gia
the words explode in my head.
Sharp turn thrusts me back into my seat,
We are out,
Crossing the open fields
Along the sparkling ocean.

Once I had a home in the desert

Once I had a home in the desert,

Overlooking echoing, hollow canyons,

Under vast, merciless blazing skies,

Stunted, flattened, shadows lain.

Once when I called the desert home,

I trailed trails faintly sketched,

To tops of sheer canyons falls,

There I threw my name to the winds.

Swirling sands danced every spring,

Alongside my polished windows,

Trickling in, then settle, in small pools

 Of golden nuggets, on my floors.

A garden, I planted in front of my house,

Tiny specks of green I tended to, infusing life,

But the desert loomed, surrounding me day and night,

Howling winds rattled my walls in the dark.

An oasis, a shelter from the elements,

Once I tried to build a home in the desert,

In appreciation of the night

 

Familiar and known in daylight

 Becomes secretive and foreign at night

Prickly blades tap my bare feet,

Barbed ground, firm then soft,

Ominous shadows block my way,

Ghostly lights flicker and in a flash gone

I send my hands forward,

I yearn to touch,

 Move my fingers along exteriors

Discover, get acquainted, surface.

I desire to gather sounds,

That will sing me into safety

I bring together elements,

To create a whole;

Illuminated signs,

Elusive flickering lights,

Prickly, Brittle and soft

Gloomy silhouettes that obstruct my way

Then the cool air caress my flushed face and I succumb

To its comforting touch, let it cradle me in a blanket of softness

Rest my head on a passing pillow of fog

 I follow faithfully unknown signs trusting their sincerity,

Into dark alleyways where only the outset is visible

The way back

Big empty square is the start,

The windows with their curtains tied

 By pink bows, look like half closed eyes.

One smaller rectangle in the middle,

 For the door, partly open, to let the air in.

Then a steep triangle set above,

 Colored, mostly inside the lines, crimson red.

The chimney, in the corner, still spits out

A swirling thin thread of gray puff.

Now the curving path that leads to the gate

With a slightly leaning back white picket fence.

I push the gate open, how could I refuse to accept

Its invitation, and step into the small yard.

The white cat that wraps around my legs

Moans softly to get my attention,

I give the swing a gentle push

And get lost in the well-known squeak

Some dead leaves crunch,

I am so close, so close to the open door,

I put my hand on the latch, and the door shut tight

How fool I was to believe that

There was never a way back.

The next thing always belongs

Now that I have aged,

And the noise around me subsides,

I look around, perplexed

Old habits leak through the cracks,

Create disturbances in the seamless shield.

Maps of discovery, I once labored upon,

Are coiled, ends ripped, forgotten.

What is waiting at the end of

The road yet undiscovered

Is it false all the same

In reality was I always alone.

Those who could tell me

No longer alive,

Maybe a way of survival,

Wrapped neatly in a dream,

Breathing- in the right to exist,

Standing up for my place in the universe

Yet robbed of my roots,

Denied any relations to a past,

To which I will always belong.

Hymn to the muse still guiding my hand,

To serve the music in my mind.