by CZERIZHA KAIZEL S. ADZUARA
At last, home calls. The soles of my feet will stroke
the grounds walked by saints and heroes alike.
At last, my arms will sway and welcome
the warm bodies that once were just in photographs.
I lament the half of my college years
perched upon a stool; my worn-out eyes
locked in mere cyber movements.
The pang of pain from being unmoved.
One twist and you would hear my bones
plead for a gentle stretch.
The sinews in my neck were stiff as my longing
for home: that cradle of moving bodies
and its soft yellow lights at dusk.
For two years, the glow of home
was replaced by a lampshade.
For two years, the long stride upon brick
pavements was succeeded by the distance
between my seat and the bathroom.
Skin and skeleton. My body ached
to be touched and held,
to shift and shatter this lingering agony.
How was I so tired when I barely moved my bones?
But at last, home calls for me
and my rigid legs will roam and run to her.
Ligaments and bones are finally in motion,
breaking from the long years of restraint.
So long as I am here, I will let my body exhaust
every muscle before I return seated again. F
