Poetry: Homes, Back to Home

we all leave home eventually,
leave the dark comfort of wombs,
leave the home of childhood,
some earlier than others depending upon
the warmth or not of particular hearths.
inevitably some step out
and abandon silver spoons like Siddhartha
who was not comforted by comfort,
while some break from huts of sheer neglect.
eventually, some even leave
the cocoon of self,
cracking its cramped shell,
flying beyond its confines,
its imaginary limits
its walls of mirrors
its life sentence
its aloneness

Jim Culleny, 4/4/22

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