Wandering Home

i have to leave now
there’s no car outside
no one is waiting
but i know it is time
 

if i don’t make it
i leave this note
use it to trace the
short path i wrote
 

manure and mountains
watercolor skies
fakeness on paper
truer in life
 

crisp air the silence
body as home
never felt like this
a place not my own
 

i was not born here
not in one sense
a rebirth is what happened
when i jumped your fence
 

having no claim
nothing on paper
what gives me right
to try and just stay here
 

a city a country
nine numbers a card
insurance and money
they’ll build up their walls
 

i’m a criminal rapist
not a mom not a dad
not a child not a sister
not a refugee ad
 

forget me my journey
my blood and my veins
what do i matter
just taking up space
 

i’m not me no more
a foreign painting of brown
no voice and no words
i can’t make a sound
 

so i’m running from war
breathing in cold
nostalgically feeling
your scent when i’m old
 

i’m roaming through streets
to spaces unknown
unsure of my place
not sure where to go
 

all the while thinking
remembering you
tasting your air
seeing your moon
 

should take something with me
to remember You by
something to keep
if i need to cry
 

yet all i can take
are pieces of scraps
memories movies
short clips like snaps
 

a baker’s dozen
a field of green
a desert a home
now just a dream
 

purple not orange
blue and not pink
a house full of windows
that let in a breeze
 

the flower that died
but i froze in tape
the paintings on paper
regrets and mistakes
the smells in my head
the dirt and the grass
the heat and the sun
sunscreen while at mass
the people and faces
i never reach out to
the voices and smiles
i think i once knew
getting up early
sunrise at 6
sunset at 5
when the colors would mix
i’d hold in my breath
when i looked at your sky
i’d hold in my breath
and i thought i might die
praying for clouds
praying for snow
praying for rain
it was all for the show
moving and moving
seeing your face
the north and the south
all lines i can trace
 

all lines i can trace…
 

it’s too much to say that i love You
and then say goodbye
but God never wrote
for You to be mine
 

i can’t take You with me
but i can’t keep pretending
this is where i belong
 

my words and my rhymes
can’t float anymore
abstractions can’t hold
the reality at my door
 

if i can’t see your sun
i’ll take an apple in hope
that’s its coating will blind me
like you once did
 

if i can’t see your mountains
i’ll take with me a bit of cement
 

if i can’t feel your heat
i’ll take with me some dirt
 

if i can’t feel your wind
slashing my face
i’ll take a slice of grass
to cut my own cheeks
 

i’ll take what i can
i’ll scavenge your Earth
i’ll leave like a scoundrel
no longer your ward
 

I hate you I hate you
your manure and mountains
i wish i could claim You
call You my own
 

but your hate and your hate
makes me manure not mountains
 

if only you’d claim me
call me your own
 

if only you’d claim me
then i’d be home
 

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