My Mind

Personal website of M.G. Daniel. Sharing poetry, my writings, snippets from my life and whatever's on my mind.

Who’s a prodigal wanderer?

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I find nothing helps me see the flaws I need to fix or weak spots to work on in my poems like having them published, anywhere. Nothing like hanging the garment up on the public clothes line and stepping back to be able to see that stain the wash missed. So this one here is an oldie, long in the making poem. Or more correctly, never really put through significant revision, which I am trying to do now. Do tell me what you think – comments indicated for my eyes only are treated with utmost privacy.wanderer-1471454_960_720

Prodigals

By Melania Daniel

 

Returning home,

What do we hope to find

Between eternities of visits

Or since that time we left –

Can we fit in the moults, sloughed

By the tearful parting?

 

We approach, laden with gifts,

And doubts, and feeble knees,

Wobbling through this hometown.

The corridor between the eyes and memory

Is crammed with tears, nostalgia flutters through the stomach.

Mobbed by airy hellos rushing out of ever-opened windows

We break down in claustrophobia, some withered face is gawking

Vague reminders of yesterday’s camaraderie, names

Dart across the memory, eluding capture for the familiarity

Our greetings lack, our childhood monikers so well-remembered.

 

A grimy tot sails paper boats on the high tide of a gutter and

Beneath the eyelids school days float by in fuzz, we barefoot

On the melting tar of the only street, still one-way like a sock,

Life in this place a dead-end

Daze of splashing toes in steamy puddles

After copious midday showers, when the hot street’s breath

Clouded on the mirror of a humid day, in night’s slow

Recurring dreams of certain city fortune,

We could not see ourselves in the hazy future of this village.

 

And there it is, unchanging – home, you squeal,

Eavesdropping echoes question softly, home?

A family reunion awaits you, fumbling

Through initial moments of clumsiness

For what’s right to say, sibling togetherness and laughter

Delicate as the cake baking in the oven, one loose remark

A harmless howl could send this spirit slumping flat.

Concern for the progeny a new flavor

Mother’s fussing over again,

Did she mix the right ingredients? She’s sure

Something unsaid is missing.

 

Soon we get up to leave,

Regretting to all we have to go so soon

And leave behind the best day of our lives,

But we’ve got to work tomorrow.

I’m thinking with the final wave

It’s no better out there,

Still no comfort here

The voices mutter

And I understand why

Prodigals are wanderers.

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Author: M.G. Daniel

I am a lifelong scribbler who is now focusing on poetry and becoming more established as a writer.

5 thoughts on “Who’s a prodigal wanderer?

  1. That was deep. Although I didn’t understand much of it.

    Like

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