Home / Dachaigh

by Lana Pheutan

The city has always pulled me,
its bright lights blinding me
to anywhere else I could be,
live fast and loud,
the taste of love and blood on my tongue

defining for myself what it means to be young

living in collective mess,
a unifying nothingness.

There’s a place where nothing is everything
a whispering wind,
no obnoxious buildings blocking
the setting sun

Where salty water lets a heart grow young.

To be reckless and come to no harm
is the gift of having love close by

but still
it journeys two hundred and eight miles

two hundred and eight miles
seems further every day,
and where I want to be
has never felt so far away:

Home is a place that I can touch.

I will no longer tempt fate
and leave words unspoken

say    thank you     and
I’m sorry for the things I have broken,
say

I love you,
and I hope you know I had to leave,
to let myself grow.

Take me home,
the only one I have ever known,
who I gave my all,
though it wasn’t much at all,

When wrinkles mirror rivers,
running through me skin, she
will be the one love I didn’t doubt.