Left to right the wind of the West guided me home, through fire and bone
So happy I have been and am to fancy myself melancholy returning home
A miscast day of weather with a speckle of fortunate sun erupted from the clouds above
The dusty prints of a loved one, once so close; now so far
Familiar faces take me back to a time before life began to lapse
A fun repast prologue to older years spent in fear
But, home I trod, through cloud and fog
The odd Merc with a point to prove, shaving a tonne in a seventy groove
Missed I have been in that land of forgotten dreams
Archaic are the bridges which brought me to new life
Now, silence pervades my brain, cool water mixed with heated rain, battering against my tiny mind. Sat lame are my thoughts, laughing as they set a course for another land
Returning home isn’t all that bad
behind the poem
It is no mystery that this particular year has been difficult for a lot of people all across the world. I wrote ‘Returning Home’ during that particularly difficult period. I found myself rushing around with no precise focus, after months of being at home I was suddenly moving around the map like Homer Simpson into another hilarious reputation shattering situation. My brain was swallowed whole with thoughts of the past, comparing it with the present.
Despite my melancholy thoughts, I try and bring some satire at the end of the poem to cheer myself up.
Reflecting on this poem with my present, life is so much better and even though the world is still not quite as we remember it, life itself roars on… “gotta get back, gotta get free”
Parisian Poetry 