You Don’t Have To Come Home

I would have traded my God for you,

and I did.

I would have told Him, “No, there is no longer room for you here,”

just so you would have room enough to be my everything,

and I did.

When I had found myself shut out of hearts that beckoned me home in the name of ‘love’,

I sat in dark lanes and begged for you.

I asked Him for you,

I looked over and around His love;

overlooked Him searching for you.

Then you came home,

and now I realize that you would have been poison.

I would have never met His love had I first learned love from you.

You chose absence and it cost you that lesson.

The necessary study of ‘Who,what and where is Love’.

Absent from His heart and mind you’ve been trying to find love,

but you won’t find it outside of Him.

We, me and Him,

we were good.

He was there when life stopped being easy.

He was there when the darkness daily tormented me.

He was there when the light often had me petrified.

He was there when loneliness meant the death of me.

He redefined me.

He’s always had me, always held me.

I sat in the stillness of what could have been pleasant  days,


“Will she ever come back for me?”

Then you came home

and I wasn’t what you came for.

You had come to collect your bag of precious memories today,

mull over your mother’s ills,

your father’s glory,

your families pains.

“Can she see me standing here, waiting?”

I have been waiting to know your name,

to see if your heart favours mine,

to hear if your voice has desire to rise;


Blocked, barred and walled off from who we could have been;

I waited in vain,

I’m waiting in vain it seems.

I thought you came home but you had only come to see if I was where you wanted to be.

And I haven’t been.

Mommy, I wish you’d stop visiting,

I wish you would see my street and keep driving,

that the construction work on my life would deter you,

and you would try another day but never do.

Consider me a  hydrant and lets maintain that 15 feet,

simply because you drain me.

Each time I see a silver lining you change the colour of the sky.

I sense you’re becoming a rainbow I never hope to see.

So, the next time you think of coming home,

please don’t.

Love, me.


Rae Sonson,

March 13, 2017,

17:17 p.m.


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