Going home
As the breeze hits my hair,
I walk down the same path
I so desperately desired.
Piece by piece,
It all crumbled,
not by choice,
but by fate.
The sound of the creaking wood
and the sight of the gloomy horizon,
parted by heaven and seas.
I sit.
So quietly, but yet so full of despair.
“Why me?” I ask,
gazing into the twilight,
knowing that that’s
what had to happen.
It’s what was chosen,
and even though
I did not want to accept it,
I could not just obliviate.
Not in the state I was in.
Farewells ought to be harsh,
but these felt different.
They seemed to engulf me
with not only sadness,
but with hope.
Hope to see them again.
© Poetry.com