The dragon flies are massive and tease me like a part of myself that never lands
Cannot be captured only glimpses for one glorious moment in the height of summer
They are Captivating, evasive mystery I would follow you forever where you lead me down the garden path into the wild flowers
I want to go home again and again calls the quiet voice inside me. I want to go home
And where is home? In the company of friends loving arms magic charms, camp fires is it the wolf’s den or the river side or the soft grass. Is it my quiet heart my still mind the longing inside is this home? This question? This dragonfly I follow along the long road to the new beginning is it the feeling of winning just once or is it what the bees feel in their endless being or the trees feel in their wide rooting or is the seeds flying off or buried and shooting? Is it deaths warm embrace in that place at the life’s end? Back to the earth, spirit free to roam, is life it’s own way home? I want to go home. I want to go home. I want to go home. It’s you and you and me sitting together having tea. It’s boring and calm and holding. The place you’re sent away from, left out of, want to get away from, can’t escape, it’s the place you were held down, abandoned, abused, raped. It’s waiting at the bottom of the fire escape while the flames consume everything you’ve known. It’s the flesh and blood and bone of you and more than that too. It’s the what you’re waiting for and what’s not good enough it’s where you learnt you had to act tough and get your own way because you were small and helpless and lonely. I want to go home. I want to go home click your heels together now where else to roam a flash of smoke a cyclone a tornado a baby screaming in a cradle I’m able. I’m able to read the map to find my way through what’s looks like the way back to this new place this open space where I’m exposed on show don’t know what I’m doing got no where to go. Home. Home. Home.