Making Peace With The World

For years I sought out the morning quiet

without even knowing I was doing so. 

Remembering the feeling of annoyance for that infant, whichever infant, 

waking earlier than they were suppose to, infringing upon the moments of morning solitude 

that my body would seek; no alarm needed.

That desire magnified when we left that big house that gave me space I needed,

and found ourselves in 900 sq ft. Me and two young adults.

There was no corner to retreat to,

no place that wouldn’t disturb the other occupants 

of that house that smothered me; but only in the mornings

That’s when I took to the car, where I would watch the new day begin,

where I could listen, in a volume suited for my ears,

to the poets and preachers, the guides,

that promised to help me convert my turmoil into peace, my anger into grace.

They’ve kept their promise, or rather I did, with their help. 

Now, I’m looking for a place inside this house, a corner of quiet, 

an early retreat, where I can feel safe, finding shelter 

from the dark cold mornings of the Pacific Northwest in winter.

I think it’s time to come Home.