In Motion



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

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