A Poem or Three

Now and Then
I guess I didn't leave it at home.
Or maybe I did leave it there, but it followed
And took a few weeks to find me.
Not sure.
But it's back.
I accept that part of my identity
Might always be inside, regardless, Lurking,
Waiting in the dark for me to fall asleep to Nature.
I wonder: when I wake up, will I feel awake?
I can't say. I'll dream tonight that tomorrow
Will be a different day, unlike the last
Day after Day I've slept through waking hours.
I'll dream for the fresh strength of new direction:
The crystal clear crispness of sharp focus,
The invigorating charge of clear intention and shear will.
I taste the new day as it comes from around the corner,
Heading to me to sweep me up and spit me out back onto my own two feet,
Armed with the absence of anything worth hiding,
For or From.
I hear my new voice,
Like the howl of the wind and the cackling of Hawaiian geckos,
The sweet almost silent chirping of midnight insects.

Home
I'm far from home,
But that's not where my heart is;
My heart is right here in my chest,
And it beats tonight like it's for the first time.
Home is familiar faces and places
Connected to memories proud and painful,
True.
But I'm home here,
And I'm happy to be;
I'm blessed to be able to see that.

The Ocean's Ode
I can see the sea
Every day there's no rain.
It seems like a vast desert of depth:
A universe of blue,
As big as the sky
And just as infinite.
It beckons and it threatens,
Saying, "Come.
Go.
Come.
Go.
Jump in and feel reborn and don't"
A paradox.
The waves are waving, whether they are inviting and enticing
or just saying hello, keep your distance
Depends on the weather.
It rains often.