These words are an attempt to display the thoughts and feelings I had the moment I stepped off the plane until now.
The Homecomings
I held my breath as I walked from
the plane to the entry,
I knew for them it felt like I’d
been gone a century.
My Mom is the first one I see.
With tears streaming down her
face,
I can’t help but know how much
she loves me.
Fast forward now,
Past the hugs and cheers.
All though the excitement thank
goodness
Has vanquished all my fears.
My Dad notices my shoes and
eagerly points down,
Inquiring about the holes, tares,
and discolor that has caused his face to frown.
Before I could answer my cousin
chimed in a like.
Bringing attention to the bruises
on my leg
Indicating a crash or two on my
bike.
My Aunt chimes in next almost on
cue,
Sticking her finger through a
hole in my shirt that had been mended a time or two.
The shoes, the bruises and the
wear on my clothes,
How could I even begin to share?
Each represented the labor in
behalf of those whom I care.
But even though I had wounds to
show,
My mind turns to one who
descended to a greater low.
New shoes and clothes can be
bought and bruises will eventually fade.
But what about the marks of a
son,
In whom victory over death was
made?
He’ll come back again in great
glory,
In a homecoming so grand mine
can’t even compare.
I think of his hands and feet and
remind myself,
his pain was almost too much to
bare.
His wounds won’t fade over time
and certainly can’t be bought anew
For he is the Son of God fulfilling
all he had to do.
Examining my marks once again I
feel a greater love,
As I realize my experience was
only a small mirror of the grand one above.