Homesick
It sits there.
Refusing to leave.
The unwelcome guest to my emotional being.
Dancing and swaying.
Churning around.
Controlling my thoughts, my dreams, my actions.
It will not leave.
There is no end to this event.
When should it exit?
How do I overcome the force of its presence ?
Each morning, as I awake to the sound of the humming fans dancing above my head and the shrilling sound of the singing tree frogs, I feel its movement within- rising with the sun.
That dark, foreign ache that awakes from its deep sleep.
Settling in the pit of my stomach.
Gaining strength and momentum.
Ready to party for yet another day.
A bike, a shovel and lunch bag- that's all he needs to get through his day.
As I drive along the coast, he slowly labours up the hill to his place of work on the sugar cane field.
I ponder on the day that lies ahead for him.
What thoughts are in his head as he cycles in the rising heat from the morning Caribbean sun.
Are his thoughts with his children, as mine are, now so far away?
He has never left the island.
His life is on the sugar cane.
He knows nothing of life across the seas - and children left behind by me.
My unwelcome guest must soon leave this stage.
It is time to move on to some other event.
Where minds are playing games and thoughts of loss and homesickness soars.
I must grab my bike, my shovel and my lunch and meet the challenge of each new day.
And find my way.
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by Siobhan
Homesick
It sits there.
Refusing to leave.
The unwelcome guest to my emotional being.
Dancing and swaying.
Churning around.
View All Articles on:
Poetry: Homesickness
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