XXVII. Ode to Home -
/You are the place that I grow anxious in - anxious to leave -
to leave, only temporarily, so that I can explore -
to leave and return
So that you can lull me into a sleep so perfect. So perfect…
… a slumber of dreams as if the ghost of the canopy that was taken off the frame of the bed that I currently reside in, still regards me as the princess who left home before coming back.
The princess who was ravenous for whatever the Queen had made -
the princess who gathered herself, in body and in thought, as she ran into the Queens’ open arms that were always soft,
and whose essence is still my only definition of what ‘maternal’ is;
the princess who received her dose of culture and identity by listening to all that the King knows -
the princess who when she leaves home finds strand upon strand of her mane falling…
as the stress keeps rising -
the princess whose birth story always begins with, “you had a head full of hair - all black”.
I will come back home and you will restore me once more,
to again lull me into the dreams that have taken me away from home.
I will return to the origin of my intellect; the place where dialogue provokes thought,
and yes, at home, thought is uninhibited,
still, at home, purity remains indefinitely,
because all that one thinks here, is pure - why?
because at home I learned that life can only be lived purely-
At home I stare at my reflection in the framed photo of my ten-month year old self and I realize,
that the fluorescent-lit mirrors in the suite I now live in is defective - why?
because it reflects everything but the person looking into it.
I will come back home and you will restore me once more,
to again lull me into the dreams that have taken me away from home.
I love you home.