Home

Home is where the heart is, so they say.

But where is my heart? When the wind blows tumbleweed across the cracks in the sand, they pick up debris as they roll on by. Where is my heart?

“It is not down on any map,” as they say – “true places never are.”

And home isn’t the same anymore; it never was. It can be fleeting

flying

feeling.

We and the river are constant change – ever-evolving, turning a new leaf just as tiny roots stretch their newborn legs into soft, brown soil.

And still we chase, gather, hunt. Nostalgia. Birth. Rebirth. Brown, cracked leaves, brown leaves covered in rain.

(Is home an illusion?)

I reach down, frantically picking up dark brown leaves, shoving them in my pockets – some crack in my hands, some are wet and pliable and I gather them, desperate and hungry – barely noticing the feeling of wet earth between my toes.

“Home.” “Home.”  “Home.”

quickly!

gather

…please.

My pockets are full, bulging with dead leaves.

Is it down on any map?

(True places never are)

I just want to feel safe in the constance of your smile.

Something about the dirt between my toes tells me I’ve got nothing to do but be.

Something about the earth beneath my feet tells me I’m here.

Something about the sand inside my pockets tells me it’s now.

Home is where the heart is. But where is my heart?

I stuff my hands in my pockets and squeeze the soft brown leaves. If I close my eyes and breathe in the deep forest air, I know my heart is in the feeling I get when I hear you say,

“One of the happiest moments in my life was watching the sun rise this morning.”

My heart is in your laughter.

My heart is in “I love you.”

 

It was then that I knew,

Honey, I’m home.

Flowers

Covered spaces, cracks in the pavement

The way our smiles lit up dusk like twilight

Love me forever

If only for this moment in time

Light up my life my heart like fireworks

Blanket my soul

We didn’t notice the dandelion seeds blowing in

endless roads, distance, causeways for miles and miles

We’ll take these trails hand in hand forever

didn’t notice the foxtails in the distance,

flowers got in the way

The movies

sun setting over highway 94

your voice still an echo fading,

distant sunlight

you know i’m driving all the way to chicago,

i don’t know if i’m ever coming back home.

i remember the way you used to look at me

you didn’t know i longed for you the same.

melt my heart into your pillow

don’t you know your smile shoots

darts like sunbeams?

i know the days we walked in darkness

were numbered, so numbered

if these streets could talk they’d tell you

that i still remember

sand dollars, that one day

and i wanted you so badly

i wanted so badly for you to be the one.

Salt

salt and snow gravel grind beneath your shadow smile

miles and miles,

left behind the train tracks skidding with the pebbles dancing off the rails as we race on by.

Don’t you know we’re going to Alaska?

you say laughing, throwing your hat into the air

throwing

your

hat

into

the

air

for a moment all i see is your joy

and in that moment i know that nothing else matters

-mh-

Decades

Sometimes there is silence and space

reaching across the multitudes of

decades, decades, decades

spent dancing by the kitchen door

spent in that hallway, shone

spent wandering by the bookshelf,

home.

won’t you slide across this empty room

faint hum of music and sparkle in your eyes

won’t you tangle, soft around these limbs

won’t you wrap my heart in sunrise

 

Refrain

They say those empty verses left on the register

will come back for you,

but what do they know

about music

the bridge never follows

as you traipse under its arched passageway

they don’t sing about the sparrows once they’ve

flown away for winter.

they don’t tell you when you throw a bottle out to sea

it doesn’t come back – the waves recede gently,

and with the tide’s return

dappled grey bubbles

lap at your toes,

echoes fading  crimson sunlight.

 

 

Wrap Me

wrap my heart in embers

encase my chest in cloth wrap it stop it from breaking

or at least hold its shattered pieces together

wrap it in steel so I can’t feel the quaking

the chasms

roaring rivers running through canyons

filled with lions

cool it with breezes, funnel in light

hold me so hard that it stops hurting

hold me hard and plant flowers in my emptiness

I want to watch them bloom in the springtime

please

remind me that everything dies but that there is new life