Remember homecoming night?
We were awkward.
Wouldn't look at eachother.
Laughing in my head.
Wishing we weren't friends.

National WWII museum,
New Orleans,
summer.

Somehow
we have ended up here.

1,387 miles from home.

Here,
where war is so close
yet so far away.

I look at this boy
and for a moment
I swear his smile looks just like v-day.

And his laugh sounds like peace.

And when he calls my name through this crowd,
It feels just like a homecoming.

Home smelt
like jasmine today or like those scented candles near the bedside table
Kept aside in ambition.
Or maybe it was just you.

Into the dust of Mojave
On a blow-away afternoon
Wandered a traveling stranger
To the highway truck stop saloon.
Taking a seat by the window
His back to the hot blowing wind
You could tell by his face he was grateful
To be out of the sun once again.

And those desert breezes call him
When he is all alone
Ask him where he’s going
He is going home.
Mysterious sandy traces lead him
Along a distant track.
Home is out there waiting
And he is going back.

Then a laugh floated up from the corner
Where the stranger had recently been.
Except for the glass he had emptied
The booth was practically clean.
Out on the road he was walking
His back to the sweltering town.
His car was still parked at the truck stop
But the stranger did not turn around.

And those desert breezes call him
When he is all alone
Ask him where he’s going
He is going home.
Mysterious sandy traces lead him
Along a distant track.
Home is out there waiting
And he is going back.

I had fallen down hard this time,
Found myself at the bottom of it all,
When somewhere past the void,
I heard my own future call.

It struck a chord in me,
Unexpected but I could feel,
My hidden heart made of flint,
Fate struck like it's ever present steel.

Again, again, again, and again,
Round, and round, and round,
How much I tried to lock myself up,
Life refused to let me be bound.

Wrapped up in my past,
I did my best to hide,
I was never going to be enough,
Trying to escape in the shadow of pride.

I was buried in the frozen earth,
Knowing some day Spring would come,
So I clung to my old shell,
When I felt the world start to hum.

Begin, Begin, Begin and again,
The sacred circle was never broken,
Fleeting dreams tumble away,
As the sacred words are spoken.

Though scars will be left behind,
My feet still find their place,
My tired heart beats again,
My Will returns to it's relentless pace.

My goal was finally achieved,
and my atonement was past,
The Day is finally beginning to dawn,
The empty night was not meant to last.

I left, and nothing was the same;
I came back, and everything was the same.

I've changed, but you haven't;
this thing between us hasn't changed,
or has it?

You remain transfixed on the games,
and even after months of silence,
you expect me to play;
and I get a thrill off of saying no,
which admittedly is my own way of playing back.

I don't know whether I love you or hate you more,
but homecoming also means coming home to that dichotomy,
to resisting urges and old patterns,
to hoping you've finally figured out where I'm at,
that your path has met mine,
that you've changed with time.

These roads feel the same but also
like they belong to a life I no longer know;
new tracks on new albums make the soundtrack for the drive,
and you attempt to wedge yourself amongst lyrics of redemption
and desire.

I need you to let me go
but want you to come with me;
I need to live the new life I've built
but am haunted by past fantasies;

when I come home,
it can't be to you,
and when I leave,
I'm leaving you too.