Sunday, September 2, 2012

Coming Home

I'm home. Sweet home--
we call it--last
in line to order
and journey past
the thorns and storms
beneath the wind
and hold they had.
I'm here at last
to serve, to honor,
to be a friend,
to love another
and then extend
a tight embrace--
though welcome, yes--
but then a fault
found in a friend.
Several things
we should address,
but it's not time--
do not confess
your doubts in me,
your sheer protests,
in such small time
we have--now, less.
I assure you, I've
been rather blessed
in my departure.
And dear, unless
you intend to bind me,
hold, suppress,
I must ask you
to not express
your concerns right now.
Instead, recast
your eyes on me
than on distress.
Do this for me
please, I ask,
and I will not act
as one harassed,
but rather, love you

I am home now--
home, at last.