No direction home

[goldenmyst]

Teapot whistling
Summoning waking mind
Into deep awareness
Of maternal love
The sizzling sound
Of French Toast
Remembered in urban bastion
Where sirens blare
With surreal urgency
Like the painting Scream
A nightly procession
While I hover on the second floor
The angel of death waiting
For my final exhalation

[gypsyjoker]

almost like haiku
but I know so little about it
I just liked it a lot

[mnaz]

Too close to home, John,
like trying to get back home.

[mtmynd]

John : "The angel of death waiting
For my final exhalation"

that line draws the curtain shut...

interesting topic, John. enjoyed!

[saw]

a great read on the uniqueness of the personal journey home...
"home" encompasses so much more than a place we grew up in....
excellent......

[goldenmyst]

Gypsy I love your comparison with Haiku. Thanks!

Mnaz, so far from a home which no longer exists. Yes those mornings at my grandparent's are gone with the wind. Yet my pulse is steady, heart has a good rhythm, for the time being.

mtmynd, mortality is less feared now. Yet when I face him eye to eye it may feel different.

John

[goldenmyst]

Saw, home is where the heart is. I left my heart in San Francisco. Sometimes I think that one day I'll migrate out west. There are so many ghosts haunting me here. Your observations are astute.

John