A Return to Known Soil

I return to known soil,
To that of my birth,
And breathe the air of first breath —
Drink the waters that raised me.

It is after a time,
Spent days in strange dust,
Where nothing seemed right —
My compass inverted.

The sunlight is different here —
Nightlight-in-my-bedroom familiar,
Like that of a loving embrace —
My eyes smile.

Trees I climbed in youth,
Bend and beckon,
Wave me up to higher limbs —
I politely decline.

These older hips and knees
Are cracked crumbling,
Like chipped paint on these faded homes,
And the sidewalks I’ve walked.

Some broken paned memories appear,
As shattered glass in the grass —
But my nose finds the lilac scent,
Spring-of-my-youth blooms my soul.

Amidst the change and the same,
I’m here under different terms —
A fresh coat of paint, fixed windows —
Amend the cracks with strength and love.

I dig the dirt with cupped hands,
Making space to grow roots —
Mend the soil for the future,
To grow a stronger tree.

My goal with this poem was to capture my feelings as I’ve returned to the same home and neighborhood I grew up in. Though some rough memories show up, it is different to be here as an older person. I feel grown like the trees I used to climb and can look around with a sort of humbling reverence to time.

I spent a lot of my early adulthood trying to escape this place, but now it feels good to be here. I’m ready to plant my roots and watch my children grow here. My goal is to bring even happier memories to these kids and heal that generational trauma that can haunt us all.

As always, thank you for reading!