A Place To Call Home

Take my body,
take my bones,
take my spirit too.

Wash off
anything that clings, that dares me
to ask it to hold fast.

Take the statues of Ganesh
to the kitchen sink,
wash off the dust that clings.

Leave behind
the rank idea
that anything past should remain.

Did I really need the clothing?
Did I really need a place to hide?

Walk out naked
in the cold of morning
and turn away from the day.

Cling to the night
for the time remaining
and resign myself that it’s gone.

Go back inside
and sit with a sigh
on a chair not made for the weak.

When I at last
stop clinging to the past
I’ll heave myself into the day.

But I really need to sit for a while.
I really need a place to hide.

I really need the clothing.
I really need a place to call home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Onward,
T