Miles from Home

Winning Writer's Cramp poem for 5.12.24

Miles from home
Mother, Father, Brother, Sister: I've long since buried your memories
As I lay these old weary bones to rest

The stars beckoned, calling the best of us out
Somewhere beyond the event horizons, plucking the flowers of the cosmos
Thoughts of Earth wilted as we chased our dreams across the heavens
Trackless miles from home

Earth, descending into Chaos, deep into an unfathomable abyss
past the event horizon of a Hell of its own creation.
Lost.
Laying old bones to rest.

In an alien city on the far side of the universe
the liquor is cheap and the alien sex cheaper
Stripped, robbed, beaten and abused
left to bleed out and rot in a forsaken alley,
penniless and naked;
the lights dim and the darkness comes
no earthly grace left; a temporary stay of execution
reprieved by my assailants' incompetence.
what good is it to be alive, when the soul is lost.
my heart aches, but the flame's gone long cold
it's a long way home and there is no way back

I hear the ethereal call: come home
lay my soul down, sleep the dreamless sleep
among dead and forgotten kin
on the cold dead cinder of my birth.
The last place to rest my weary bones.

I've gone to the ends of space, seeking what I had left behind
I've felt their dark, cold breath stalking me from the beginning to the end of time
Now I lay these old weary bones to rest
A billion light years from home