This poem is inspired by so many things I’ve navigated in the last year.  It came to me while driving up through Oak Creek canyon on a quiet Saturday morning during the incredible dance weekend I attended.  I recorded pieces of it in to my phone while driving so I wouldn’t forget.

If you’ve ever felt exiled or abandoned or rejected, there is a master plan just beneath the surface. There is a place you belong, even if it’s just to yourself.

I will also say, how are the ways we sometimes exile ourselves?

The ripping of the band aid is often the penance for staying too long, ignoring the whispers.  If you feel lost, there is a true North waiting.  And a new home, a new belonging.  A new freedom.

I didn’t know what to name this poem but remembered this beautiful Pat Metheny tune, Letter from Home. So here is a love letter from my new Home, shared with you.

Please, also, enjoy the soundtrack.

 

Letter from Home

 

Lower your eyes;

bow your head

toward

those Angels of Mercy

who banished you.

 

Only the softness

of your downward

gaze points

to the tarnished

compass

 

shining

in your open hand.

Wrapped in their bold

ejection, it waits

for your attention.

 

In your blindness,

it knew

no other route

navigated

to your line of sight.

 

This;

this one.

The arrow still

points True North.

 

Toward your new

Home.  The one

you imagined

in faraway dreams.

 

The one

that’s been waiting

for you.

With it’s open

welcoming door.