Estranged

I walked towards that tree on the hill

Where I stepped on the leaves that

Had fallen to the ground

Making out

A carpet of brown and orange

Protecting the soil from winter

That had turned out bitter and cold

So cold my hands had become

Both dry and blue

I thought of you

 

As I reached the top of the hill

The view of the city

Had me divided

I was estranged

Once again

From the world I was born in

I'm not okay

It's as if something's missing

Or someone

Lacking a name

That's long been forgotten

Or merely

Hasn't been felt

By tongue

 

I turned around to

Ground myself and

I was absolute again

For a while

Nothing was wrong

By that tree on top of the hill

It was still...

I was home

Author's Note

Reviews

[NeiL ArandA]

Couldn't really quite figure this one. I maybe be back to savor some more and perhaps decipher the meaning of the piece. But right now everything is hidden in obscurity. Perhaps the muse is someone who happened to be born and raised in the country and somehow caught a glimpse of a city and all its dazzling lights and allure. For now this is all I could digest . All your piece are penned in enigmatic ways probing the mind of your reader to keep a keen look to what's your trying to convey.

[MAC]

this is just beautiful and masterfully written. wow.....very big wow. I love the nature twist, my favorite poems ever do this and you did this perfectly

[Michelle N. H.]

What a compliment, a very big thank you from here!

[MAC]

truly being honest :) have a wonderful night

[Michelle N. H.]

You too, Mark :) Thanks.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

yes, this tree...it is memories..and it is home..but sometimes we forget both....we need something to remind us of what we once had...something to keep us grounded...

a beautiful big tree can do this...i remember this big maple that was in the front yard of the Gutterson's farmhouse in Ryegate, Vermont where i spent most of summers as a kid.

you made me reflect with this poem..thank you so much for it.

jacob

[Michelle N. H.]

I'm glad I made you reflect, it's a lovely memory. Thanks for sharing it.

[Lydia Shutter]

A moving write. Sometimes an inanimate object can make us feel we are back home.....back where we were happy and at peace with ourselves. When a person moves from one place to another at a young age, it is as if he or she has feet in different worlds. It is not easy. A poignant write.....and a good one. Lydi**

[Michelle N. H.]

I agree on that, appreciate your words. I'm so glad you like this write of mine!

[Christoph]

This feels like a person moving in two directions at the same time, and for me, they are in both cases headed for the same destination. Madly good.

[Michelle N. H.]

I love your outlook :) Thank you for reviewing.

[Vidya Bacchus]

This is very beautiful and your images are so vivid,Great write michelle:)

[Michelle N. H.]

I'm grateful. Thanks, Vidya :)

[Vidya Bacchus]

You are welcome hon:)

[R. L. Hill]

Love this, truly. Weepingly pretty

[Michelle N. H.]

Aw, that's grand. Thank you.