Today I reign high,
In the kingdom-
Of somebody’s broken cradle;
Of somebody’s dead corpse.
these all you might have presumed
Dawn till dusk,
Wait for your homecoming;
Thousands of dream,
For you woven;
Thousands of days,
For you awaken.
Wrinkled hands folden;
Thousands of times Prayed,
To which Land you go?
Untouched relation,
sown
Heavy and hardened,
Weights of pain;
Walls heightened.
Darkened-
Here in home,
Waiting…
Burnt sagging hands,
Melting candle;
frozen
Come home.
lovita j r morang
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/come-home-7/
