ECHOES OF RETURN

 

Echoes of Return

I stand at the threshold, silent as stone,

With a heart full of journeys, but words overthrown.

You’ll search my eyes for stories untold,

Asking, “What did you find in the world’s wide hold?”

I said I needed space, and space I was given,

Yet here I am, empty, though endlessly driven.

I am a tempest, you are the shore,

I crash and retreat, always wanting more.

You are the hearth, warm and complete,

While I am the wanderer, worn by the street.

Perhaps it’s the hour, perhaps it’s the cost,

But I come back with fragments, and so much is lost.

You’ll wonder, “Did they see you, out there in the fray?”

I’ll answer, “They saw what I did, not the price that I pay.”

You’ll ask, “Did you triumph, did you make them believe?”

And I’ll shrug, “I don’t know, but my soul feels the weave.”  

Then you’ll smile, take my hand, say, “Let me bear the weight,”

You’ll guide us through twilight, as the day meets its fate.

I’ll stare at the skyline, whisper jests to the air,

Finding peace in the quiet, in knowing you’re there.

So how do I return, with nothing to give?

I know you’ll still see me, and teach me to live.

For home is not questions, nor answers defined,

It’s the place where my silence can finally unwind.