Fabulista Finally: Coming Home

The letter, voiceless, screaming, “it’s real!”

I’m coming home after wandering a score and one year.

Fell asleep to the voice of James – he carries me home.

A pillow wet with tears

(Of joy? Of sorrow? Or both?).

If things were different, I’d be happier.

If things were different, I wouldn’t have to go.

She said, "don't look back..."

But sadness is the lot of my life – with a fistful’s thrust upon my face, I picked the shortest strand.

Happiness is not my forte.

As strong as you were; tender you go

I'm watching you breathe here for the last time

A song for your heart, but when it is quiet I know what it means… I'll carry you home

Perhaps Joy would not elude me now.