It's not that I'm not grateful

It’s not that I’m not grateful for what has been changing. It’s not that I’m not aware of all these changes. It’s not that I’m happy to know we’re coming home at last. It’s not that I don’t hear you all around me like a slow and loving blast, unfolding expansion into this time and place.

It’s just that I miss your face. Every time I glimpse it, I just want to come home once and for all. I don’t want to be here any longer, in this place of the fall.

It’s not that I’m not grateful.

It’s just that it doesn’t always feel like enough, if I’m honest. Even though I know it’s so much more than I ever had of you.

It’s not that I’m not grateful, or that I don’t sense your loving arms around me. It’s not that I’m not happy to know I’m coming home at last. It’s just that the past still lingers with me. I just can’t quite be happy. I just can’t quite let it go, at least not to the point where it feels like it never happened.

I’m just not there yet, I guess.

It’s not that I’m not grateful, or even unaware of what’s been happening. It’s not that I can’t tell we’re coming home now, at long last. It’s just that I can’t quite erase the past. At least not to the point where it feels like it never even happened.

At least not to the point where I feel whole again.