Sometimes I stare into something Else
A patterned cascade
Of nostalgia
And what it feels like to be Home.
Let it break me
Down into the tiny pieces
Reformed; like stained glass
In this Image I see -
Wheels; spinning, running,
loving
Lonely and incandescent;
As we may walk past someone who looks familiar
And feel recognized.
The Else comes in special moments;
Synesthetic, you can taste the
Thickness in the air.
It tastes like spring buds;
Like grandma’s old futon.
Heavy, muddy, cold.
Embrace
Let go
These old moments are all you need to know.
Sometimes I stare into somewhere Else
And let it wash over me
Goaded by homesickness, I am free.
Anonymous