Mapping

 
  
 Have you ever wanted to go home,
 Struck by a need so intense and so sudden
 That it took your breath away?
 A call back, tugging at you
 From a picture or a name  
 Relegated to then and not to now.
 
 A home that has been outgrown
 A home that does not fit all the angles  
 And curves of so many years,
 A home that has not been
 For longer than it was.
 
 Yet, whether it drifted away
 Left behind without thought,  
 Or was rejected with determined intent,
 There lives that dormant tell inside of you,  
 Anchored to your bones, whatever the flesh pretends,
 Time forgets that you are here and not there,  
 Or maybe it never cared in the first place.
 
 And that word slips around the tongue
 And says, home,
 When what you meant to say was:
 Where I used to live.
 Where I once was.
 When I was a child.
 Where I no longer belong.
  
 Do the trees remember when you last passed by,
 Dappled light as you biked down silent lanes?
 Do the rivers mourn that you never walk their banks
 To splash in the gravel shallows anymore?
 Did the corner store where you traded pennies,
 Record for posterity, your taste in candy?
 
 Impassive, they still call your name.
 One, two, many moves,  
 Months, years, decades, allied to  
 Countries, oceans and maybe a sea.
 Answer or suppress, the word remains,
 Even when we do not.