The Way Back Home

It’s like playing bumper cars again,
Like you’re five years old never wanting things to change.

Obsessed like a kid who just got their first tooth out,
Playing with the noodles on its way to your mouth.

Holding wooden rulers like it were swords,
That’s what it is now that we’re left with no words.

Thinking before speaking, afraid of doing it a lot,
Scared to think too hard if it were heard, hoping not.

Holding torches like they were guiding lights,
Migrating birds about to take flight.

Knowing the known, the sunrise to show,
Leading us back home.

Lead me back, take my hand,
To the castle in the sand.

A place where I,
Can see the sky.

We used to play as dolls now we play as us,
Building sandcastles, now we wash it away in the waves and dust.

Bringing the reality over the dreams, waking up in cold sweat,
Locked it up in a treasury that we once kept.

And we never see the wrongs, never think things twice,
Never let our hopes down or mask away emotions under disguise.

Back when we hung our stockings, placed broken teeth under the pillow,
Believing in it, believing in all we know,
Knowing it will show the way back home.

I can see lights like the ones we held up when we were kids,
I can see my wings spread out like it would work– and it did.
Not knowing the distance I have flown,
Knowing it would lead me back home.

Lead me back, take my hand,
Back to the land,
A place where we,
Could believe in the dream.

It’s like playing bumper cars again,
Laser lights across like red hot pokers in the fireplace,
And then you crash into the edge,
Reading Merchant of Venice amidst the thorn bushes of that hedge.

The ivy over the castle where everyone fell asleep,
Ivy over their eyes and over the street,
Wooden swords crack, thorns cutting till the bone,
But knowing that way is the way back home.

A place I wouldn’t have to track my footfalls, hear the heartbeat of my trail,
Whether I’m venturing closer or farther to the Holy Grail.

A place I’d never have to search until the stars show,
The way back home.

Lead me back, take my hand,
There’s only one word etched on my nightstand.
Only one thing I would ever want to know.

It’s the way back home.

Jiya Doshi, AS-A