Poem by Tracy L. Strauss

"High Star" by Cindy Williams



Homesickness

I keep finding myself
missing
something

displaced

unsettled
feeling
these pains

longing

my stomach
aches

hungry
for some far-off
familiar place,
the habitation
of Safety’s space

that does not exist
never did here
inside myself

I try to unlock
the double-bolted door,
my own house of dreams
that shut me, pushed me
into this dislocated state

outside
in the dark

the moths still flutter, burn
their delicate wings,
like masochistic magnets
drawn to the destructive light

that stayed on
all those nights
like a beacon

that shined
until my mother
flipped the switch.

I want to feel grounded,
to leave this uneasy air

let myself in with
the turn of my wrist,
feel the teeth of my key

give in the grooves, ease
inside that heartwarming embrace,
but all that is there is this
destitute structure, this realm

of false memory’s decay,
my own familial foundation
devoured by the dampness of time

molded by deceit
rotted to the core
the floor boards
destroyed

this is where
the truth lies

it’s all over

these walls, the numbness of beige,
stuck to the decorative paper
my father put up in the hall,
crooked, with the hands of abuse,
the brush and the glue
he used to shut my eyes

I yearn
to reside in
a region of
my self
my life
lost
long ago

corrupted
corroded
sold by this
home sickness.