Writing to write

Now I lay me down to sleep

but sleep never comes

uncertainty settles in

it tastes like…

reality becomes available

screaming unwanted conclusions

I want for my happiness

I’m contemplating living worlds away…

My heart moans for this new earth

…complaining like a spoiled, sulking child…

I miss my family

I miss the backyard


to drive my car

to hang out with my friends

to smell American soil

to ingest American food

the wind speaks differently there

and I’m here


I’m not the same

what am I going to do now?

The necessity for trust is stronger than ever

how frightening

finding solace in meditation and inventive questions

…tell me why I left again…

I needed answers

I’m receiving answers

how will I reconnect to what I once called home?

I am beginning to conclude that I am about to discover that I have found a new definition for the past idea of home

and I pacify my uncertainties with an old friend


3 thoughts on “Writing to write

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