Return
Not a perfect path...
This is an honest picture of what it is often like for me to return to where I once was...
Hell, I thought
as the cabbies
screamed and split
their fares at the
stop and crowds.
Not one face I see here
to pick me up; again,
my thoughts of them,
standing alone in this
as I slashed through slush,
ice, snow, rains, humid heat,
quiet dark, harsh sunlight,
and thought of them all,
deeply suburbanized
and steady with all their routines.
And me, in those holiday seasons
skipped by with bus, train,
even plane trips (can be done),
just to see those faces
so much older, heavy, light,
familiar and too strange for me
in a place that is always,
even now, Home.
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About the Creator
Kendall Defoe
Teacher, reader, writer, dreamer... I am a college instructor who cannot stop letting his thoughts end up on the page. No AI. No Fake Work. It's all me...
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I’ve had so many names in this life I lose track of which ones were ever really mine and which ones I wore because someone needed me to. Some were handed to me before I had words to refuse them, before I knew what they meant, before I knew I could say no. Most weren’t meant to hurt. That doesn’t mean they didn’t leave marks. Marks that told me who I belong to, who I am by way of who claims me, recognizes me in the good and bad, who walks beside me.
By Fatal Serendipity2 days ago in Confessions
Comments (2)
Great job! It is often weird when we go back ’home’ as an adult… all too easy to fall back into roles from our childhood etc.
Wow, this is very powerful and relatable. "just to see those faces so much older, heavy, light, familiar and too strange for me in a place that is always, even now, Home." Well done.