Have I lost what I’m just beginning to realize
is most important to my heart’s longing for home?
I was formed in this comforting hurting place of greens and golds and blues.
Help me,
I’m crying in the home-sickness of my bulldozed childhood house.
The rain that blurs my tears,
The fog that hides my fears,
The cold that gives warmth to what’s dear.
Like my memories slipping,
This sense of security feels,
lost.