Most people are born homesick.
They leave the home their mothers built for them to come to a world they have never heard of.
Most of us are born homesick.
But then we hear our parents carve our names into the silence,
We hear their voices fuse together and it sounds like we remember,
It sounds like finally the empty that’s swallowing us is no longer hungry.
You held my arms between your ribs and stilled the Hurricane’s in me,
For 18 years you kissed my cheek as the flowers floated out of my hair,
I can not look at flowers anymore without feeling the silence filling my chest, the turquoise wind whistling through my cavity bones
Your silent throat on the other end of the phone,
My skinned knee caps hitting the edges of the sidewalk,
Your hands not there to catch the blood as it trickles down the backs of my heels,
Most of us are born with a homesickness.
But then we hear our parents voice filling in the gaps in the silent air
Filling In the gaps in us.
When you left the air around me became so filled with silence that I thought it would explode around me.
When you left I heard your voice ringing in my empty bones so loudly
That I could not feel the turquoise wind cutting through my kneecaps
I could not feel the homesickness swallowing every piece of me,
Your forest fire hands set fire to everything you touch;
The third degree burns you didn’t leave on my body have almost burned me alive.