Journey / Longing / Home

By Alej (they/them)

Fleeing in the middle of the night, 
 who are we trying to be,  
a band of coyotes? 
     but fearfully running to  
     the nearest place that would 
     take us, accept us. 
It’s not that they wouldn’t accept us. 
 If we suggested to stay,  
it only determined how much 
     she was willing to sacrifice. . .  
All in the name of me. all. for. me. 
 (question myself; me?) 
Did you make us leave because his truth 
 was so erratic, striping— it tore off 
 this fake enamel you plastered  
 over your exposed steel bars— those bars,  
                                  a cage. 
But a cage not occupied by greeting 
     mourning doves, 
     the confinds of the cage hold gentle, messily      
     dismembered  bodies holding feathers; left with one  
     life in an eye. 
     Scab and scab again. Trying to  
     heal but struck again before  
     your cells, your soldiers could gain their strength, 
     build themselves back up 
     To knowingly be prepared  
     for the next hardship,
     likely the same hand  
Yet that hand  
hasn’t been a hand in  
vastly 25 years, 

He’s dead. 

     you’re safe, 

          go home. 
But, remind me  

where is  
your home.  

Where is MY home?  

Did you take mine, 
because   they took yours ? 
 well, I’ve changed the key. 

You can walk yourself home,   
maybe to another’s (to borrow) 

Because you will not 
assume control over  
 my body my home.
You can live through and fight 
 your own problems. 

I was born from an opening  
 where a river spilled from, a person.
You’ve taken me far beyond the river,  
 Ive built a boat with what I have left, 
     and I’ll paddle until I see where the  
    sky and the sea kiss and bear the teeth of land and trees. 
     Smiling back at me. 
     to give me the gift of a welcome to home.