home in sight

i railed around the rooms
like on feathers of metal and wheels
of static

adrenaline

a-
dren-
a-
len.

i spoke much
and feverishly;
and i stood,
finally
before my washer and dryer,
in the room where we keep
recyclables and
the cat eats...and i wept.

and the tears were like
a homecoming,
and the feeling that a twenty-five year
self-imposed sentence
had been finally lifted.

my shoulders dropped,
and i wept...
for the long walk, the dead friends
and the wild flowers.
i wept for the fact that
even this;
that most
magnificent
of miracles is
yet,
just a chance.

and then i sat down, and i began to write, again.