Home from the Holidays

This weekend you flew
So you might be together,
A brood of blood pilgrims
Gathered round baggage claim. 

You ate and you drank,
You laughed and you played — 
Re-enacted your parts
In old wholes.

Between static sets
Rest the reasons you came: 
A snuggle, a meal, a memory made, 
Or the fast slipping family dream.

But Sunday comes soon,
Awkward airport good-byes,
And you watch them all 
Boarding their planes.
 
Only now, all alone,
Do you feel your chest burst
In that wild love that comes
When they go. 

Tardy heart, foiled again  — 

Like the present attacked
By the point of the past, 

You are left with the vase
That has always been shattered — 

And you sit with the grief
Of what’s always been here
Just as much as it’s
Always been gone. 

And as airport train turns,  
Reorienting;
As eyes pour ancient rain, 
Recollecting;
As the vase breaks again, 
Recomposing.

And your broken blood compass
Spins storms as you walk
Toward the flight
That will carry you home.