Tiptoeing around edges of my past
Wondering, ever wondering
Are ten months enough to forsake my home…
For, it sounds like a trumpet’s lost echo
rather than current
Former days whisper
the SUV there, shouting about my faraway friend
a stair there, reminding me of my brother–
All like photo frames of familiar faces,
Reminiscing of previous time.
Then people around
endlessly asking me,
“How long are you here for,
how long do you stay?”
And I reply with a sad smile– do they notice that?–
and with their rejoicing,
I ever-wonder do they understand.
Fear lurks around undetected
Until God says, “Do not worry,”
And in pondering I saw how
Strangers did not scare me,
as much as old faces after a long absence.
I knew what to do,
in the face of the unknown;
I had learned the art of a pioneer,
in a country not my own.
But what about the known?
The endlessly fearful familiar?
He said. Don’t worry.
He has covered me and will be with me,
Do not be afraid.
Trust him down to your tippytoes.
So here I am on the couch, tumbled like the pillows,
Boiled water waiting to be poured…
Listening to distance sounds of community on a Sunday night
–like headphones not in your ears.
So here I am, lost in a book
titled “North and South”–
and wondering which direction is really home.
Toes no longer tipping?
Oh my soul, remind yourself that
After our first year here, when we went "home," a friend said to me, "it's harder to come back than to go. It feels like no one gets you…you've grown and changed so much and everything back home seems exactly the same as when you left…but you're so different you're not sure how you fit."
That has always been so true for me. Praying for you. And looking forward to hanging out sometime and hearing all about it!:)
This is simply stunning, expressing everything I felt when I went home after first year (even though it was the same country, just different islands). Beautiful and somber, while filled with hope. Thanks for sharing 🙂