Return

And they awaited his return:

the cut grass, the hole dug for a tree,

the fading plastic chairs,

the rusted gate, its hinges wailing.

Mother, brother, father and sister,

frozen in time: faded

to invisibility, bowed by the weight of the days.

And when he finally comes, everything

will start to move: the grass will grow,

the tree will bear fruit, the plastic

chairs will shine and the gate will swing

and squeak, never to be still again.

Just let him return: to burst

the bubble of time, so that their scarred hearts

can beat again. They will slowly

kneel, will raise their eyes

to him, in tears, in thanks.