Maybe Home is Calling My Name
In the never-ending search for home
I still can’t find it.
Not the physical place
nor some spiritual plane
or feeling that wraps its arms around me.
Moving here and there
didn’t bring me where there was any hope
of home.
Even moving back to where it might have been.
Nor did it cure me of the longing.
Longing for the place I’ve never been.
I can’t find it.
I just can’t find it.
I’ve heard the stories.
I’ve seen the glow just the word brings
to other’s eyes.
My eyes have grown weary
in the search.
I’ve looked in so many places.
Through moonlight
and with soft summer breezes.
I’ve looked through the bottom
so many glasses.
I couldn’t find it on a map.
It must be there for so many have it
and spread the tales of its glory.
Sometimes I thought the music would guide me
and sing me back home…
Music has taken me so many places
but you can’t go back
to somewhere you’ve never been.
I even thought it might be within.
Somewhere deep in my soul
as in some philosophical puzzle;
some cruel conundrum.
It’s so much more than a place
that will reach out in welcome
to hold me and tell me
it is safe here
you are loved here
you are always welcome here.
That this is where you were always meant to be.
No, it is more ethereal than that,
much more meaningful.
Those words bring a smile
for perhaps if I could explain it
or really knew what it was
I could find it.
Whew. What a thought
and how quick I went from a smile
to this deep abyss.
I just want to feel it.
I don’t even have to hear
Welcome home.
Welcome home.
Michael Mathews
October 13, 2018
8:35 AM
Rainy fall morning in my RV on the edge of the lake – on the edge of many things.
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