Poetry
Blown Back From Where I Came
By Angie m. jansen
Part I:
Blown Back from Where I Came
One last time staring out at past nights
Blocking out the street lights glow
With this silence so familiar
It is all I know here, it is all I hold home
Dampened now by rainy mornings
Congested by this city’s cough
I feel sun burnt, squashed
As we end what we began
In what will be it’s final resting spot
Into the blue cloud that hangs between us
I let fall my words, my worth
Exhaled from lung’s pink tenderness
I will stay for you; I will do it for love
You stare off into a night sky
Ocean salt lingers on your breath,
Mixing with your lies, and
You let go my hand
I blow away with the wind
Blow back to the place I came from
I try to shrug off what is build up
What is like barnacles on my bones
The ship’s sail is torn
Broken, the mast hangs overboard
Leaving me ship wrecked
In the city I was born
Part II:
Dusty Prairie
I can hear you calling,
From far off in time
It carries with the wind
Collecting dust on its journey
Forcing its breath between mountains
Climbing down over empty highways
Rolling past scraps of forest
That scatters this patchwork prairie
It brings with it a thought
That I once wished true
That has long been forgotten
It will part my dry cracked lips
To assemble in my lungs
Release into my veins
Traveling up to my mind
And into my heart
It will be a stabbing pain
Of remembrance
That has long since dulled
In one slow exhale
It will be released
In a sigh
I am many miles away
On the dusty plains
That created me
That forms to me
Where there is no space
For your exhaust of dust
