the string that tugs at my brow.
knots a lump inside my throat.
draws my back to ache.
it's not stress; it's
the string that is wrapped tightly around my heart.
pulls every thought self-ward.
clenches fists against service.
hardens my husband's questions into blows.
sharpens my children's curiosity into intrusion.
speeds up the clock,
lengthens my to-do list,
shortens my attention span.
enthrones Me, crowns Me with tears.
i close the dishwasher.
lie down on the kitchen floor. it is cool.
my boys have laid out their best blankets. they are soft.
my fingers brush past dust and crumbs, which twinkle away
as a little voice calls,
we smile, hug.
the string unravels.
i'm not Home yet.