Dayna Leslie Hodges

Sigh

I trace my fingers in concentric circles

trying to spiral my way to you,

but all I am is dizzy.

I unspool this epic narrative

attempt to fashion a map

from the jangled directions

of a broken compass

without a true north.

I search for home;

a hearth built with our hands.

 

I follow stepping stones

until they blend into earth

become compost for spring seedlings.

 

I weigh my footprints

reach with hand tinted memory

for highlights

in this black and white photograph

daydream.

 

Repetition of dreams derailed

weaken my parchment pulses;

I stall in deep indentations

almost drown in concealed ruts.

My soles know well this fragmented soil

brambles scar my flesh with doubt.

 

Though it tarries, I trust in love

and I believe our home will be.

 

My fingerprints leave their sigh

upon every leaf of longing,

caresses of curiosity

lift every stone

looking for you.