Ok, so once again I have not dated a poem. I think this one was done around June/July of 2008 but then one can't be sure. Like I stated in a previous post, sometimes you have to go backwards to go forwards. In a lot of ways, I'm still searching for that way home. Searching for that place of comfort where you walk in the door and feel relaxed and rejuvenated. I had it once. That feeling is tied to the place and to the people that surround you.


A Way Home

I feel like I'm chasing fireflies.
Running in circles
looking everywhere for the right solution.
I suppose I should seek from within
what is not in my eyesight.
It is painful,
and all swallowing this void in my heart.
I'm yearning for soft touches,
long conversations about nothing,
and naked days in bed.
Its almost like walking onto the flats when
the corn is high,
and the rows are endless.
I stand there,
deep in the soil,
watching the corn meet the skyline,
swaying with the wind tide,
and I know there is a way home.
I know it like I know my own soul.
But there are no signs.
No markers.
Not even a smirking scarecrow.
I can barely lift my feet to pick a way,
a route,
a direction.
I'd like to feel like a queen again.
I deserve to know my way home,
and get there without even
knowing the roads,
the fields,
or the hills.