Home is a fleeting gift
In a world of scorched earth
Walking on scalding concrete
Seeking solace of presence unknown
Unfounded
Ripped away by history’s pestilence
Stolen by experience
Experiences
Raw and hard
Too hard to let them be heart
But now floating about on a turbulent sea
Dashed against an abyss of darkness
That absorbs every cry out in pain
Every word that can't explain
Every tear that falls like rain
Torrential
Insistent
Maybe
That my feet will never find the Mother
As if that were even possible
But the heart can be kidnapped by the mind
Held hostage by the ghosts of stores never meant for us
Stories that distort and disenfranchise and distance us from something that had its genesis in the heart of the Earth and our immortal communal and singular body
Stories that no feeling human could ever stand to reason inside compassion’s tabernacle
Our feet on the ground
Seeking the safety in some cold, dark cellar’s foundations
Tripping yet on the roots of ancient trees, gnarled, rough, ambling
Expansive and knowing
Still
Showing us the way
Home
Copyright 2015 Ukumbwa Sauti
