I am building
Building a home
Return here after
After you've roamed
And back into
Into my arms.
I am building
Building a life
A getaway from
From your strife
To make what's
What's wrong right
I am building
Building a family
A place for you
You and me
Where we may live
Life life freely.
i slipped the silk fabric over the curve of my hip and the scarred flesh of my thigh in a dressing room with three of my friends behind me, sucking in the fat of my stomach. they say black is supposed to be slimming but it only made me bloated; maybe the mirror was a liar (i know it didn't lie). an elephant with too-thick eyeliner and a too-thick body stared back at me and i bit through the skin of my lip till it bled and i wanted to live on some other planet where elephants were appreciated.
"that's the best one you've tried on yet," someone said, but i couldn't hear them over the red-eyed demon within me which whispered of shoving two fingers down the trachea, messy but quick, everything gone in an instant. if this was my best one, i was doomed because my eyes were glazed over with the misunderstanding that beauty would never apply to me.
"i'm just gonna go- go to the loo-" and the red eyed thing inside me cracks its whip, takes over the nerves in my brain, makes my legs sprint to the toilets and it's over, it's done, the food gone among stomach acid, falling hair, and teeth erosion.
i can only imagine what the restaurant worker who was forced to clean rainbow-coloured vomit in the toilet thought.
On the way back all these thoughts poured,
Leaving me more opaque than when I left.
All the fears resurfaced with their horns and pitchforks...
No, I didn't tread through this tedious hell just to fail.
And then a voice said:
"Facing your demons, and the ones you thought you left behind, never was easy. You get scared and overwhelmed, but that's why you pray. "
...and that's why suddenly, we could all move again.
While all of my friends will tell me no,
I say yes because I can't watch you go.
While all of my friends won't like you at all,
You're quite the catch, and it's worth the fall.
And though I've just met you, I can't help it, you see,
I'm thinking about you, hoping you're thinking about me.
You are the mud under my shoes
that with each step
urge me on
and turn my racing spikes
into Hermes' shoes.
You are the glow of my phone
when I can't sleep at night
so I look for solace
with those I care about most.
You are the music I hear
and the music I play,
both so different
but neither more beautiful.
You are the click of heels on hardwood
and the smell of jasmine
on a night we cannot forget
because I finally asked.
God blesses your hands, takes them both
and lifts you so you can stand.
This is your homecoming,
a long time in coming,
72 years, eleven months, and one week
you’ve been running this race, so I think
we can afford a little grace when you sprint
the last mile, so strong and sweet
into your Father’s open arms.
And you know those angles leading you away
ain’t got nothing on you, not even reasons for you
to stay. And they’ll be trying hard, cause they know
they haven’t got a thing compared to your heart.
This is your homecoming,
a final graduation, a certification you’ve done
right by life. And we’ll still be here singing
sacred Somns from the earth you once called
your own, waiting to see you smile in the wind
even though your gone. And we are so happy
for you, but we’re still human, and selfish,
so we’re a little sad and regretful too.
But we won’t ever stop missing you,
cause this is your homecoming,
and the Lord says it’s time to
go along. And when you see us again
you’ll be so proud, cause we’re going to
keep on, and we’re going be strong,
and we’re going give this life every last bit of fight
we’ve got just like you did. So we’ll let you go,
for a little while, for your homecoming.
Cause someday we’ll be coming home too.
it was the hooded-sweatshirt, sit-close-and-pretend-you’re-cold, bleacher-seat,
whiskey-and-coke homecoming that you never had when the leaves changed.
but the leaves changed anyway.
the damp grass smelling vaguely like your fireplace as the world got quieter,
your nose in your precalc and your foot tapping and how-many-years-left
of solo fridays, you counted the suburban stars but didn’t tell anybody
how goddamn beautiful they were above your head, because they were yours.
when you wore your high school colors, you were cold for real. no pretense
in your shivering, no flutter in your abdomen because he wasn’t gonna talk to you,
and you didn’t really care, you shrugged. but the leaves changed anyway.
and you changed, slowly. grew taller and smarter and prettier and then the
remaining solo fridays shrank to none, and you left. big sweet snowdrifts turned to spring
and you shared whiskey-and-coke with the city, your stars dimmer but abdomen
finally fuller, and limbs warmer and no sweatshirt because you didn’t need one,
and hands all over to hold and feeling all three kinds of love at once.
and then the accidental homecoming, and the changing of the leaves
and the hooded-sweatshirt shivers and knowing you’re so much bigger now than the
suburban stars and the backward glances of the bleacher-seat kids, but the damp
grass still smells like your fireplace and suddenly you’re small again, just for a
second but god that second, you shiver and turn around again. you’re so much
bigger than this but homecoming, this whiskey-and-coke homecoming still isn't yours.