To understand how far we’ve left home
how far that breadcrumbed trail
of love
has been left
how lost we had to be
to have this opportunity
to chart a map previously uncharted—
this leaning to-wards
this turning back to
home
A call to return to cherishing
as any journey to our lunarity
and even Plutonian
challenges our home-finding
when we journey to places so uninhabitable
So, can we unwrap the bubble-wrap
of our selves?
and unfold those crosses
we draw
on the boundaries of our love
and longing?
as breadcrumbs are not
to be found
in looking up
but in rememberance of
home
the severance
to the Indigenous
Wayfinding back home
may not be as heroic
as leaving home
with that
illusion
of the stretch between
the here-and-there
though
is there not
something so heroic
about returning home
after being so lost
in our striving?
To return to the sensuous the dirt, the sky, the water, the fire, and the air
And to return to this element
of grief
sorrow
and
vulnerability?
Grieving
the lengths
of our loss
those places so
ruptured
torn
threadbare
and that act of
allowing ourselves to return there
as it is only on
our journey away
that one can see
our sorrow
as this
Blue Marvel
as meeting our pain—
this grief- of love so longing
this yearing-
in endearing convergence
allows us to meet
the love once lost
The love we so need
in this time
when it is so
exposing to
only see its absence?
Is grieving
is the first act of
the body re-membering
its immensity?
The first act of
its re-turn
to deeper, wider
star-bellied orbits
of those resonances of love?
Could there be something so goldilocking about this endeavor?