losing home

The son of man
Has no place to rest his head.

The Servant of man
has no home.

Do I consider myself
a servant of men?

They say I do
So much

But do I ?

I am a part of
one,
   Two,
         three,
                four
at least,
           communities.


When I left the man
I made
my Oppressor

I lost
        my roots.
I lost
       my family.

I lost a warm mother.
An informative father
a loving cat
a fun group of people
                        on holidays and birthdays
                        with online notifications & graduations.

I spent
          four years

learning names
allergies
birthdays
occupations
and relations.

I spent
          four years

guess names of states and phrases at parties
washing dishes after gatherings
preparing rooms for guests

all that work,

all that
          Love

seems lost.

                  I still Love them.
               
I still think of yarn and Cynthia.
Still think of root beer and Galen.
Still think of bunnies and Rosie.

I still think of Philly and the Brubakers.
Still think of Seattle tales and Heiki's clan.
Still think of Sarasota and Keech crew.

I still think of all of you.

I still want to say,
"Merry Christmas!"

I still want to guess which soup has bay.

I still want to strategically sit in the living room
 So I can have Galen and Rosie on my Catch Phrase team.

I want
that kind of family.

I want
a family.
            an extended family

            That understands
                                      who I am
                                      who I am becoming
                                      and where I came from

The way you did.

I don't want
 
to be with someone
who has said all the terrible things I had to endure
to be with all of you.

I don't want

to be with someone
who thinks he should be patted on the back
for sharing his day in 10 minutes

                              and calling that
                                                      a conversation.

I don't want

to be with the black sheep,

                                            But that's what it was
                                            if we are all being honest.

My access to a family I loved so much
 was through someone

                                   who refused to be part
                                   of his own family.

If I had less need
of self care
                maybe it could have worked.

But as we grew,
I knew
          I would not be coming home to all of you.

I would be coming home to him.

                                            I would need more support than that
                                            If I were to be
                                                                  a servant of men.

Even when he began to wake up
he could not provide
                                the support
                                                 I needed
                                 the connection
                                                       I craved.

And too much damage had been done
                                                           to myself esteem
                                                           to my trust
                                                           to myself

                to make any of his amends

                viable.

                                                                               the corpse was already dead.

It's sad
                       no really, it is.
                                                           It's sad,

That he didn't listen to me sooner,
That he didn't wake up
                                                     until he had killed me
                                                     until I was done.

It is sad.
                                                   because I loved him
                                                  almost as much as I loved you.

                                                  I loved you all so much.
                                                  and you reciprocated.

                                                I can never thank you enough.

If only
           he was not the black sheep
If only
          he treated me the way you did
If only
         he had the same passion for life
                                                 and justice
                                                  and wholeness
The way
             you all did.
                                             How did he live with you?
                                                      How did he grow with you?
                                         and Not
                                                      LEARN
                                and Not
                                             SEE

How to be the wonderful people
                                         who welcomed me?
                                                   
                                                                                    I may never understand.