Poem for today

He wanted to go home, but

there was no home.

There was a voice in his head saying

you are not doing this right. You are not doing this right.

You are not doing anything right.

We’ll punish you; don’t you fear.

You’ll get what’s coming.

There was music he made with his body,

Fists drumming on belly.

There was death

that was implacable. That was just out of reach.

There was nowhere to die.

Whom do you trust with your death?

Where is the home that will love you

and let you go?