Returning

I walked too far beneath a sky

That knew my name but watched me lie.

The stars, once bright with whispered songs,

Fell silent as I wandered wrong.

The path was stone, the light grew thin

Each turn a gate I entered in,

But never out. The wind would warn,

Yet I mistook its cry for scorn.

I wore the dust, I drank the dark,

I chased a flame that left no spark.

My name grew hollow in my chest

A weightless word, a guest unblessed.

But morning does not come with noise

It breaks in hush, in hush, not voice.

One step, then two, the earth grew kind,

And shade gave way to breath and mind.

No trumpet called, no curtain tore,

No hand reached out to mark the door

Yet there it stood: a house aglow,

Its walls still warm with long ago.

I knocked, or thought I might have dreamed,

The threshold hummed, the silence beamed.

And when it opened though none spoke

The burden fled, the silence broke.

Not scolded, not explained, just held

As if the time away had dwelled

Not as a crime but merely space,

Between the light and its own face.

Now every step I took away

Becomes the note in this new day.

And though I strayed, I now belong

To hearth, to hush, to ancient song.