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Oh, Wanderer (Memories of Home)Oh, Wanderer (Memories of Home) 10/11/14 (c)
I can feel the bones in my hands
fragile, spider legs skittering across the trunk of a tree
but capable, oh, of spinning strands so strong
they hold together the world.
I am lost
locked within the flesh and tedious minutia of the days
that pass with poignant nonchalance,
fingers dipping and weaving
spirit melded with physical
sacred and mundane no different
than thought and life and breath.
if I but stop a moment
worlds open up upon my horizon
if I feel out of place
in this one place
it is only because every place is mine
and my other places call out against my rejection
resonate with untold efficacy and potential.
should I hope to more than meander through my days,
should I seek to run again,
to fly again,
I must stop
I must listen
I must sit out
and I must step away.