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The road returning ends in unmarked graves
motherless children, lover's lips and tongue
the broken or sealed promised—
I will come home.

The road returning tastes of blood and honey
ash and birth, smells of death
and the white froth of oceanspray in spring.

Years it seems since I last tread beneath these pines
and the moon seems different, somehow
without its bloodmist disguise
I am nightmare's child that walks the real dream.

We marked a reverie, drawn upon the map
crafted your home, of snow, leaf and sea.

I raise a new home from the ruins, bury my lover's bones
logs of Douglas fir and cedar
altar of shells and stones.

Freedom exists
like a pearl in darkness
beneath the tyrant's tongue
a pearl in darkness.

Take my heart and my body
build with your lover's bones
take from me, dig deep within me
Earthskin for your home.

The road returning tastes of blood and honey
ash and birth, smells of death
and the white froth of oceanspray in spring.

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