POEM: AWAY

You are a pixelated face on my Skype screen,
Who comforts with a steady voice, a steady heart,
Though I can't promise my house will be standing on my return;

As mortar is slowly crumbling,
As wind is beating the roof,
Pulling, tugging, at the tiles,

While mice run amok outside,
in the jungle that was once a garden,
Forming tunnels in dewy grass,

You listen as my heart is emptied,
And restored by my Father's voice,

As my hands are heavy like cement,
As my hands are empty without promises,
As my hands are filled again, again,

All this time you sit patiently,
On the other side of my screen,
Waiting for me to come home.