(based on a suggestion from @snazzydee and @robcorr)
The space between here and home is
as long as you can think.
What I say when I’m tired
or I can’t think or my hands hurt
Over and over I whispered it
in the delivery room though
I thought I was yelling
I want to go home
The space between here and home is
waiting in an airport with a 2 year old
endless as a repeated word.
Tarmac riddles out an unwound
cassette tape caught in the headlights.
I’ve been pretending all weekend
punching Braille into the wall
I want to go home
The space between here and home is
as bright as a supermarket aisle
glittered with chocolate when
all you want is bread and milk.
Sometimes I wake up and
don’t know where I am. Sometimes
I even say it when I’m home
I want to go home
_________________________________
Today's poem is based on a suggestion from two peeps (as I forgot to ask for suggestions until 4am and Snaz, being in another timezone, was thankfully awake, then at 6am so was @robcorr):
- @snazzydee: “distance”
- @robcorr: "Airports, because that's where I'm sitting now."
I often say "I want to go home" as a kind of mantra, when I'm upset or tired or...giving birth. (Apparently I was saying it really softly over and over when I was in labour, though I thought I was shouting).
Sometimes home seems so far away, even when I'm sitting on my own couch in my own lounge room. Sometimes I can't quite feel at home anywhere, or I know where home is but I can't get there. Then there are times when I do feel 'at home', whatever it is in that moment, and it's like an easy joy.
2 comments:
For ages when I was living between the family home and Garry's home, it felt like I was homeless. Once or twice a week, I would cart stuff back and forth.
Looking back, the family home hadn't felt like a home for a long time as well, or not my imagined, ideal notion of home anyhow.
And home now, sort of feels like home but is still not what I envisage it to be. However I do think I'm getting there.
I like this. Home can mean many things. To my mother who has just moved to a nursing home it now seems to mean being alone and safe.
I like the German 'heimat' concept (when not hijacked by nationalists).
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