Homecoming.

Homecoming.
 
I stand outside the door.
Snow stings,blurs skin under cold softness.
Crystals bleed dark magic,bite deep.
Sweep along veins,
settle in my hearts hammock.
Bring home tardy thoughts,empty eyes,
soft-boned relaxation
missing from my chilled spine for years,
as walking feet had carried me
outward, away from home and hearth
into lands of spike and blade,
black and red, bruise and laceration.
Now I return, wonder if they will answer?
Hope rolls out before me and I need  
welcome like warmth, like life.
Empty years are gone and new days
that spread like wildflowers could be mine,
so I ask, do I dare?
and in the trembling lightness of that,
I am home, free, taste the air,
find someone’s arms,
know that here is the place,
worth more than the world can offer.
by Miki Byrne