HomeSick-
Posted: Fri Jun 29, 2007 4:31 pm
I have been gone six long years. Eternity could not last this long. To be far away from family, when the hard times are always here is very difficult.
Two of the children are here, 20 and 21, they help me. But it is not fair to always ask young ones to do things, they have their lives ahead of them. I do not.
Will I ever meld into the way of life here? Not very much, I figured that out right away. I think different, talk different, eat different, etc.
Is it nice here? In many ways, it is more affordable. But what is money, when the heart is somewhere else?
The deal always was, we would retire there. But now my husband is retired, an invalid, and I must work, work, work. I do not think I will ever make it to retirement some days, it is a long way away.
Like home.
This is how I feel:
Ask Me No More
ask me no more, if I’m happy here
eons away from the gentle warm winds
of the desert that bore me beneath the sun
that shines with radiance unreachable now,
my bed meadows of poppies that sang golden notes
for those long nights underneath the vaulted heavens
when the stars were my companions
and the moon the brilliant pillow for my head
I gaze up into a foreign sky
no longer oriented in any direction I can perceive
amid the urbanized upheaval of forgetfulness
that shadows steps I cautiously take
the voices vacant of recognition or tone
that would meld me into one of their own
for I am not
I am a wildflower
that can only be nourished
from the eternal terra
where I was created
Two of the children are here, 20 and 21, they help me. But it is not fair to always ask young ones to do things, they have their lives ahead of them. I do not.
Will I ever meld into the way of life here? Not very much, I figured that out right away. I think different, talk different, eat different, etc.
Is it nice here? In many ways, it is more affordable. But what is money, when the heart is somewhere else?
The deal always was, we would retire there. But now my husband is retired, an invalid, and I must work, work, work. I do not think I will ever make it to retirement some days, it is a long way away.
Like home.
This is how I feel:
Ask Me No More
ask me no more, if I’m happy here
eons away from the gentle warm winds
of the desert that bore me beneath the sun
that shines with radiance unreachable now,
my bed meadows of poppies that sang golden notes
for those long nights underneath the vaulted heavens
when the stars were my companions
and the moon the brilliant pillow for my head
I gaze up into a foreign sky
no longer oriented in any direction I can perceive
amid the urbanized upheaval of forgetfulness
that shadows steps I cautiously take
the voices vacant of recognition or tone
that would meld me into one of their own
for I am not
I am a wildflower
that can only be nourished
from the eternal terra
where I was created