Here
is the journey:
Eyes open
feet
land outside
your
mother’s front door
going
through the spaces where
everything
falls
in
place.
Shades
of grey
now
a dream within a dream
the
time between morning and day,
evening
and night.
Your
eyes again, blind
off
moisture, prisms and stars
fractured
in the atmosphere and
glittering,
like so many beads
on
the dew dropped spider’s web.
Misty
haze of humidity-
squinting
vision from stinging wind.
Hands
grope to find the
well-
worn treads of others
so
your feet may finally
touch
the soil
where
the never ending
glow
of glorious home is
from
which you started anyway.
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