The Walk Home (Poetry)

I decided to walk home from Fernwood

down Moss Street,

instead of Linden Ave.

Trees in blossom lined the street.

My headphones trickled

melancholy

down my ear canals.

A sort of comforting acknowledgment

of the sorrow

pumping through my heart

and vibrating deep

into my bones.

It’s amazing how on such a grey

overcast day,

sprinkled with rain,

as I walked

with this heavy weight,

the blossoms encircled me

like snowflakes

dancing in the wind.

Flurries pirouetting

in the roadway

with a tour jeté,

as if to say ‘It’s okay,

the sun will shine again’.

As if to say

‘Beauty surrounds you today.

If you only open your eyes,

you will find,

that the hurt you feel

is the love inside.

The love you can no longer give,

bursting from your soul within,

to hold him once again

in your arms,

to replace his fear

with peace and calm.

But you can’t,

you can’t today

and that’s okay,

that’s okay.

We’ll send our blossom dance

his way.

To give him hope.

To give him faith

that one day

he will be safe.'

I blow my kisses in the wind,

to touch his cheeks

and graze his lips.

So the breeze may hug him

when I cannot.

So the blossoms ease

his fearful heart.

I hope he finds the help

he needs

to feel safe,

to at last be free.

Through spitting rain

on damp concrete,