One day I will come back home.
I will walk on the familiar welcome rug
and smell the scent of childhood;
an emanation from a past life.
One day I will come home.
When I can walk into the arms of loved ones,
without bearing the need to care for those
biological associated with my
name.
One day I will come home.
But it won’t be to hand written to-do lists on
my wooden desk
nor to the kitchen slab with
food awaiting knife cuts
and other members
awaiting sugar coats.
One day I will come back home.
Treading on familiar sidewalks and skipping
the ending lines of cubes.
Racing my spirit
and finding it
at the doorstep.
One day I will come back home.
I will lose the idea of my self the moment
I ring the doorbell
and will slowly let my soul
fall prey to
religion
as I walk through the door
to home.
beyond 