Oh Home That I Knew
(“Cast your burden on the Lord, and He
will sustain you; He will never allow the righteous to be moved.” Psalm 55:22)
Oh home that I knew;
Oh yard with weeds higher than my waist;
Oh sunshine that kept us California tan;
Oh days so old, I will never get them back;
I would lie in the sun forever back then.
I would answer the phone never knowing who called.
I would walk barefoot on the asphalt
by summer’s end. I would write reams of
poetry about unrequited love.
Oh young man goodbye;
Oh brain full of ideas that transposed;
Oh songs full of borrowed chords and melodies;
Oh front yard laughs, I will never get them back;
I can still hear the hesitant teenage angst.
I would walk by your house and hope to see you there.
I would ride 10 miles on my 10-speed
to see you smile. I would even name poems
with your name in the second line.
I carried a hundred pounds on my back,
I waited a hundred years for your glance,
I wanted some kind of freedom, some brand of freshening air
straight off the bay. I wanted to ride
on the sailboats the rich folks owned.
I wanted to tell you why I was so shy.
Oh burden I bear,
Oh heavy words that weight me like sand;
Oh moonlight that deceived me on the front porch;
Oh fancy dancers how memorized the songs;
I would unload this accumulation of grief,
I would call on the phone to ease your awkward mind.
I would drive the two miles to your house
by the end of the day. I would write it like
a letter and leave it to lighten your day.
