Home

weary, I crawled back
to an old familiar place
after a long and laborious journey,
but the doors were locked
and the windows were all broken.
rafters and beams were all out of
whack, and the structural integrity
was gone.

barefooted, I walked on shards
of glass, searching for something,
anything that resembled what I’d
once built with my own hands.
one tiny shelf remained in-tact,
and on that dusty shelf was a
little wooden heart-shaped box.

the contents of the box were simple:
honesty, love, peace, dignity, respect.
I stuffed the contents into my pockets
and walked away from that broken
house, leaving bloody footprints
in my wake. the soft moon rose
and the raven gently called me
home.

Author: Dan Steven Erickson

Dan Steven Erickson is a great undiscovered American songwriter.