A blog with only two half-assed poems for company is a lonely one. So I decided to write a third. Not because I wanted to, not because I needed to, but simply because I took pity on the poor, desolate website that I so grudgingly call my blog. But what was I to do in the face of the universe’s perpetual dearth of inspiration? Honor my self-centeredness and write about my own life, of course!
Anyway, three years of my childhood were spent in the erratic, tumbledown city of Istanbul, Turkey. If you’ve even heard the rumors, you’ll know that this meant spending only 10% of my time out of traffic jams, and that even this time was spent breathing air that was only 10% oxygen (*cough* cigarette smoke *cough*). But hellish nightmares aside, those three years really weren’t all that bad, as awful as I’d thought they’d be.
But only after I left Istanbul did I realize how much I actually loved the place. I missed my friends, I missed the food, I even missed my house, despite all the downright weird shit that went down in it… So, reminiscing the emotions I feel every time I revisit the city, I decided to make this poem a general ode to returning home, whatever that word may mean. Alright, I guess that’s enough emotional sap for now, so… here you are.
Clouds break into a cold sweat,
Into a rain that never dries;
But skies bask in a golden sunset,
In a light you refuse to ever let die.
You never really left, did you?
Weren’t you here all along?
Every window and wall reminds you
Of laughter, of tears, of moving on.
The warmth of the crackling fire,
The balcony, its cold blue breeze
Haven’t faded or expired;
They’re perennial, memories.
It’s odd, that restful feeling
You get when, at last, you’re back.
Nothing’s changed, not really;
This shimmering sea of black
Still lies beneath a sky of stars
Whose light floods through a dream.
A calm that spreads so wide and far,
When nostalgia finally ends its scream.
Nowhere else can you hold up despair
With just one finger of gleaming bliss;
Nowhere else can you breathe this air
A familiarity you’ve so wholly missed.
Years and years you were kept away
From here, or so you’ve thought.
But a part of you refused to stray
From here; you’re afraid to part
With this untroubled state of mind
Where rapture suffocates gloom;
It’s comfort and contentment you find
In this place, this place you call home.