A Foreigner In A Foreign Land

I sit on a shackled rooftop, 20 years worn.

With no one to listen and no one to keep score.

Of all the things I’ve let go,

the strings easier to break than the bonds that run underneath,

still clenching. Tightly.

One thought of home and Old friend, like an ocean engulfs me,

A grief so thick I can hardly step forward without a lightning strike piercing through the clouds of my conscious, causing an undercurrent strong enough to...

Break something.

Make something.

What-something?

I did not know my mind is capable of containing this.

Never so deep a grief, a loss, an ache

Never so great a joy, a gain, a reason to live!