Longing for home
I dreamed of the you I’ve never met,
Face to face,
I traced your fine lines,
I memorized this version of you,
I smiled.
When I woke up, I knew it was you,
But how could I know,
Unless some version of us survived?
It’s the only comfort,
That somewhere,
We were able to speak,
We were able to grow,
We figured it out.
In these dreams,
You are always holding me,
And I am always tracing you.
Two things that never ended.
I can see that in this version,
There was a story that had to unfurl,
Because there were three new ones waiting.
Because there were other people who needed care.
I understand it had to go the way it went,
Even as I lament the decades
I’ve missed,
I’ve wanted,
I’ve needed,
To trace you.
And in the dreams,
You are still you,
Gentle, waiting, home.
But I am this me,
The one who can speak.
And I hope that the two who made it
Still remember
To hold
And
To trace.
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