Homeland

I have been to my homeland
It is not distant
Or hard to get to
It is just over the valley of indecision’s death

It is beyond the broken glass
Of promises so endearing
Where silhouettes of porch lamps
Are nested inside stacked ashes of yesteryear’s cigarettes

But I am not a promise
I do not concede to be too distant
To arrive at my homeland
My fragrant dream half-spoken
Not do I configure in prose
What dreaming might be
I am a pint on a wasted ship
Where my homeland is forever for the rich
And I am penniless in its wake