Home Poem by Joan Hart

My toes curl into the sand, trying desperately to anchor me down
You don’t understand.
It’s a battle, a war, to keep hold of reality
A constant effort - the slightest of distractions,
A passing thought,
A beautiful silence,
Will send me off again
Into that place on the horizon
Of dream
And sleep,
Of thought
And wish.
It is still there
And quiet,
A happy daze
It is light
And heavy
All at once.
Someday, surely I’ll drown in it
But it will be pleasant, a letting go
I will rise to the surface, limp and free
Now do you see?
I don’t need your drinks, your drugs,
It is already an impossibility -
I am holding on for dear life to the earth,
To what’s real
And solid
It’s exhausting.
Oh that sky - so vast and lovely,
It twinkles.
I can’t resist its charms
The blue like open arms -
My home.