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Wednesday, August 29, 2012


I have always been homesick.

When I was seven, I went to stay with cousins
in a town one hundred miles from home.
I missed my family so much that I believed
I could walk that distance completely on my own.

By the time they found me, I was miles away,
walking fast, purposeful and strong;
and though I was tired, scared and hungry,
I was determined to journey on.

That stubborn lonely child within still exists;
after a life of more than half a century,
the urge to journey home continues to persist.

Now most of my loved ones have a different home,
a place of eternal light and blessed peace,
where time and distance have no meaning,
and pain is no longer a tree within reach.

I am grown homesick to see them all again.
Homesick, too, for the father I have yet to meet.
I am weary of a world gone seemingly insane,
so ready for this long strange journey to be complete.

There are days when I can hear heavensong
playing somewhere inside my heart,
and I feel a deep thrill of anticipation as
I wonder when it will be my turn to depart.

© Francisco G. Rodriquez, 2012

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