Going Home

I went home this past weekend, to Chicago, home of Buckingham Fountain, the Water Tower (one of the only remaining buildings following the Great Fire of 1871), and Da' Bulls--I don't follow sports so feel free to let me know if I should have left off that last (former) claim to fame for the Chi . . . I guess I could also have said home of Obama, my beloved Trinity United Church of Christ, Kanye, Common, and all things formerly southern but replaced during that Great Ole' Migration in the 1920s and 30s...you get the point

My trip home was, I'm sure, just like anyone's who love where they came from as much as I do. It didn't hurt that the weather was a whopping 88 degrees on Friday. . .and it maintained all weekend.

I pay tribute to Mayor Richard Daley and his constant (and likely everlasting) bullheaded ways, to Natalie Y. Moore (recently featured here) whose voice I heard on Chicago Public Radio (WBEZ 91.5) in reference to gang violence and efforts being made by Chicago teenagers to amend what (I believe) police only aggravate . . . to artist-diva and psalmist, Candace Hunter and to the father-daughter artist duo, Aiesha & Arthur Wright, whose work was featured at Nicole Gallery, next door to. . . Blu 47 at 47th and King Drive--you make my mouth and my tummy very VERY happy. . . to my daddy who knows the chef (at Blu 47) and for sitting and listening to me as we sat by the dock of the bay (better known as Lake Michigan) . . .
I pay tribute to friends old and new--your faces and your love light my way. . . I give love to my mommy, whose happiness (i am confident) will triumph at the end of her tunnel, and who put a virtual knife to my throat to FINALLY make me go through old chemistry, physics, english, english, english, and "other" notebooks and files, all to clean, but really to remind me how thankful I should be every day of my God-given, and quite glorious, life. . .
To music, to spirit, to sincerity, to the written word, to friendship, to water, to vision, dreaming, and destiny. . .

This poem is something a bit aged but that, I hope, still captures some of what I just blurted out above--a bit more tamed this time
Chicago-lovers (and everyone else too!) feel free to add your own note of love for Chicago, or just for home

ode to Home
i wanna go to hyde park
dance in the new light of the moon tonight

twirling out of control with my eyes shut closed i wanna
feel the wind on my neck
breathing heavy and thick
rippin’ my hair with its lips and teeth

want it to wrap me up in its arms real tight
dizzy me around
slap a smile on my face
and call me in a voice that shakes me up inside

i wanna dance alone and feel rich
and generous

i want light
to drip from my eyelashes
to grace the grass beneath and between my toes

i wanna look up and have the stars envy my glow

Let them shrink back into the depth of the sky
so that she bursts with joy sending rays of lust down
to earth
creating new life all green, all alive

i can see it all inside the thick part of my brain
or when i cross my eyes

and i can feel life moving through me
wheezing steady through my lungs

and all of this: the wind, the earth, the stars. . . light
all these things drag me to a peaceful place
where i can lay down onto my pillowed hands
rest my eyes to watch the sun dance in my eyelids
stretch and know no boundaries
say 'no' and summon freedom
be sexy without being defined by sex
open my eyes and see myself twirling in a huge green field with vast waters reflecting faraway rivers

and know that home is never far away

© 2005 Arin M. Lawrence