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Poem: Chesapeake Home

Old tobacco barns and fields of dust
Stories about how life used to be
Before they put the highway through the farm
I used to sit in that old white steeple church
That Enoch’s hands built and contemplate praying
When I still believed god was worth believing in
Even though I’m two thousand miles from that place
It still sits inside of me like a mountain on the horizon
Serving as a navigation marker for where home is
Whenever I need to go back to ancestral ground
For answers about who I am and who I want to be
Because the waters of the Chesapeake run deep
Carrying my consciousness on the moon tides
On gentle waves back to the core of my existence 
No matter how far I drift from home or myself

Copyright © 2021 TJS Sherman All rights reserved.


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