For those who ask: I am in the home I grew up in Between the intersection and the train tracks (Did you know, when I was little and up too late I heard the whistle of the train And I thought it was the trumpeting of angels Come to take me in the night.)
And where am I, Lord? Where will this be In history’s books? Just down the street from a post office Built during the civil war for shipping shoes Still open—an essential service In a time of worry, as it was in the time of war (There have been sixteen cases in my town And it has not yet touched me.)
And oh, where am I, my love? I am with my family Keeping my hands busy So my mind stays still I am in bed, or on the floor, Or in the living room, or on the porch, Or putting grooves in the driveway As I stop to smell the flowers that have bloomed the same this year as they have on every other except this year I have someone to compare them to and not a blossom measures up to you, my love.
Where am I? Home Safe—as safe as one can be In a familiar place All of these are true (But the first answer that comes to my mind Is always “still miles away from you”)
Like this? toss me a ko-fi so I can write more <3 https://ko-fi.com/sjblasko