I have returned!
I am not a soldier
nor prodigal son,
but still home called to me and I was welcome.
Belonging is in the blood
the tang of barbeque and old sheets
voices that say my name with years of history on their tongue
potholes and traffic jams just where I left them
boxes of hurt and embarassment, of growing up and growing restless--also where I left them
but the soul never changes, whether wonderer or monk
no matter how many new city maps are memorized, restaurants reviewed, and zip codes collected
the pollen and the red clay and the river water grew me and traveled with me
it is who I am as much as who I was
I am not a soldier
nor a prodigal son
But still home called to me
and I was welcome.
nor prodigal son,
but still home called to me and I was welcome.
Belonging is in the blood
the tang of barbeque and old sheets
voices that say my name with years of history on their tongue
potholes and traffic jams just where I left them
boxes of hurt and embarassment, of growing up and growing restless--also where I left them
but the soul never changes, whether wonderer or monk
no matter how many new city maps are memorized, restaurants reviewed, and zip codes collected
the pollen and the red clay and the river water grew me and traveled with me
it is who I am as much as who I was
I am not a soldier
nor a prodigal son
But still home called to me
and I was welcome.