“home”

When I go home, I take off my glasses,

so the pictures of me from 10 years ago

are blurry, faded.

Framed strangers that share my life,

looking down at me from the walls.

Telling me I belong here.

Telling me how deeply they know me-

The life I’ve lived somewhere else.

Remnants of my childhood stay here,

they’re never thrown out-

just re-positioned.

Just like me.

When my visit is over,

the door buckles under my palm

and refuses to close,

like it has done, since I was born.

Trying to sway me to stay in this house-

I’ll never let it.