Homecoming

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

I’m thinking about what happens when you go back
to a place that was once fond of you and see all

those strangers you’ve known for many years,

and how so much will have changed, undoubtedly,

but not the fact that you are still wondering who you

are and how all of this is supposed to fit together,

somehow. There are bridges that convey us between two
points on this Earth, and others that take us

on entirely different journeys. I’ve stood on both.
I want to see the ducks, yes, of course, the ducks of

the ducks that once held my confessions, hear the

yellowed beech leaves crackle beneath my boots,

and try, very hard if I must, to remember

things that I never thought were important. Somewhere

along the winding brick pathways and boxwood-edged

gardens, I’ll stop and say my hellos to some soul or another.

I’ll mean everything I say in the words that follow. A poet

is always earnest. The trouble is though, we never truly

find our way home. And, we know it.

~ Jamie K. Reaser, Author

From "Coming Home: Learning to Actively Love this World"

Feel free to share