dear friend
you have waited so long
for me to hear the call
of home.
a sweet singular note
steady low beneath
high-pitched tremolos of worth
beyond all those songs
not in my key
named “you don't belong”.
yes, finally, as dusk
lays like fine dust
along the long lane
i arrive at your doorstep
weary and worn
through all my threadbare excuses
out of tune and step
i come, unsure of my welcome
gone so long
craving different
as though it were better
than the tenderness
of your patient embrace
the door opens
we meld into each other
a resonant wholeness that lights
all the empty windows
inside
a song that sings: I belong to myself.