WELCOME HOME

The sun shines a little brighter in these parts.

God’s country, some say.

You over do it with the sunblock.

Worried the light will blister you raw.

Turn you into old leather and be forgotten.

Maybe one day, you’ll be hanging in a gift shop for $24.99.

“That’s a good price,” someone will say.

Will you be bought out of necessity or for beauty?

They don‘t know what you once were. Still are.

“I was told I am made up of stars,” you whisper to yourself.

Piles upon piles of rock, sand, and earth halfway up and all around.

You wonder if this is what it’s like to be buried alive.

You wonder how it will all really end for you.

How still the minutes pass here, knowing there is no such thing as time.

Moments don’t have intelligence. You do. Do you?

The stillness intoxicates. A quiet stupor settles in.

You sink into that long, lost feeling where things are crystal clear and blurry all at once.

And you’re still. Ever so still. The clock has seemed to stop ticking.

You’re not dying, silly.

Look North. Look.

See the vast blue sky meet you. The clouds dance for you. Breathe.

The open air holds you like a mother to her only child.

The same sun that weathers you warms your face like a kiss

From a long, lost lover you thought you’d never see again.

Pebbles and stones climb on each other’s shoulders to get your attention.

“Look at me. Look at me. Looking at you!”

The prickly plants bleed you red, bruise you purple. That’s good.

And breathe, once more.

You’re alive.

Welcome yourself home. 

By Eunice Nalhani Anandha @inlightofbeing