Homing

Seething through the floor boards,

hacking through walls,

laughing down the chimney,

giving up the past,

recruiting all her limbs,

revisiting all her loves,

she squeezed in through her pores

and made herself some blood.

Her eyes were leery,

would not see,

her neck, heavy with brown dirt,

fingers stroking round her bones

etching out her skin.

Finally, she built the place of magic,

a curious mix of hope and uncertainty,

so she is sure that

when the time is right,

she’ll find the proper place

to put the holes

for air.

After the traumas, the sins, the wrong directions–when soul returns to body–there is the work, the building of a place to breathe.

© Andrea Mathews, 2014

Photo by enzzok.diviantart.com

by Tracy Love Lee

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