“Ode to the Longest”

Colours fade from the walls
till I’m a refugee in my own world.
Never gonna be the same;
never gonna be the same.

My fingerprints invisible now
till all I have is nothing at all.
Won’t be coming back again;
won’t be coming back.

Just like that
four years fall off the walls
and end in cardboard boxes,
and end in garbage bags.

This is the ode
to the longest place I ever called home.
This is the ode
to one of many tents
of a wanderer’s wandering soul.
The ode to the past
and the future
and change.

The ode to the constant
that never does fade.
The ode to my sorrows,
the blank walls and boxes,
the ode to the trash full of memories.

This is the ode to my fear
of never finding home.
This is the ode to my hope:
that home, one day, will come.

This is the ode to my memories
and those that are yet to be.
This is the ode to the part of life,
the part of me,
that can’t be held in boxes,
that can’t be held in chains,
that can’t be stopped from hoping
even if my heart breaks again.

This is the ode to tomorrow
which rests inside Your hands.
The ode to the longest place on earth
I ever called home.
And the ode to the home I have yet to find
that I have never known.

Written January 2012, Emma Dumitra.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s