To Be Lain Down Back Home
So I finished this poem just about a month ago in late December. One of the last two things left in the current backlog. It’s a kinda morbid, grief filled piece reflective of the time/year I was writing it in. I’ll let the rest of it speak for itself.
To Be Lain Down Back Home
By: A.X. Bueno
We all have dreams and obligations that try and pull us away from home
Some of us leave longer than others in pursuit of them
Whether we return in the end we still end up back in the soil or some other biome
It’s rather hard to face but it is not an idea that should necessarily hem
There’s usually a lot of life in between and stories from times when we roam
And in those roaming times when life is lived
You might find the location of your home begin to split and drift
Soon you find the feelings of home are no longer from a sole place derived
And a serious dilemma can be found in this shift
Well really multiple dilemmas from this shift can arise
But lately I’ve been thinking more about a particular one
And it’s where to be put to rest after one dies
While right now that still feels far away I’d rather be prepared in the long run
Not that I’ve made any sort of plans yet that have actually left my head
I wouldn’t know where to start when I have several homes to my heart
And then there’s the way my family is buried and spread
If I think about it too hard I can verge on coming apart
All the final memories denied and final words unable to be said
But I also know we don’t always choose where we go or where we depart
Still it hurts that there’s so much family in a country which I can’t truly stay
So many permanently resting there but as much as I consider it home
My feelings and spoken words hold no official sway
Even if I have history there, personal and family enough to fill several a tome
I’ll keep going back but probably won’t end up there at the end of the day
And that’s been something that’s been on mind for a short while
As said before these thoughts are hard to plan for and directly face
But I’m learning ways to distract from them as I also learn to reconcile
With all that’s gone and is going on I’m trying to figure out ways to give myself grace
At the end of it all what I ask for is there to be at least one space and time laid out for me
And for life to let me figure it out at a slower and less worrisome, more reasonable pace
I’ve got a heart split between homes but only one place I can truly be