And somewhere in my bones
a quiet whisper responds
that I must stay,
that I must also go back there.
Shut the door to my basement sanctuary
making art,
in the garden feet deep in the golden dark soil,
listening to the
squawk of the blue jay.
Somewhere deep in my bones
I know that I am not going home- but maybe.
My hands remember that
I once made things, colorful things-
things that you could cuddle up with,
get lost in.
Somewhere hidden deep within me I am so sad
that I won't get to know you better.
That maybe I am changing so fast
that the me,
with you
can only be around for so long.
When I am meditating
my old friends are with me.
They have not forgotten about me.
Somewhere in the ache of my back,
I will be with you, again, very soon.
*(possible optional ending)
I might have never thought that I could
be so alone in this.
but I am alone and I am able to
be with so many new people-
to experience new things in a way
that I had never thought possible.
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