Going home

Familiar butterflies flutter uninvited in my inner belly,
                   inciting but inhibiting,
                   anxious but excited.
Provoking insecurities to reemerge from the shadows of time.
                   inaudible voices from the past,
                   visible failure recalled,
                   sour disappointment.
Hindering freedom
                   to breathe fully, deeply,
                   for mind and body to meet openly,
                   to laugh heartily or cry relief.
Apprehensive about
                   my choices,
                   my distance,
                   my life.
Eagerly anticipating the refund of acceptance
                   of years overlooked
                   without understanding
                   or approval.

Suddenly short of breath, I slow my approach to that familiar driveway,
         steering to straddle the grass mounds running down the middle of well-worn tire-tracks.
Visualizing the dust of memories mounded upon furniture unused since last I visited,
         I recreate the shadows gathering inside the sitting room.

But the sun shines too brightly for shadows today.
         The driveway welcomes the wayward with ruts to prevent misguidance.
         And the cleaning lady departs as I arrive, removing the dust mounds of pain.

Just now I recognize that this prison of time and space is of my own creation,
         not what they hold over me but what I have fashioned from a world of fairy tale wishes
         without honest approach to what is real in my life, or what is good in my past.

Outstretched hand, I clasp the door-knocker, suddenly welcoming the butterflies fluttering
                   inciting but inhibiting,
                   anxious but excited.
Ready to meet my family again, ready to embrace the reality of my life,
                   happily,
                   honestly,
                   heartily.