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Blair Johnson Poem
I feel amused by the sentiment of homegoing
And yet still have not arrived to the understanding
What it all meant, going home and not coming
Though to come may allude return to one’s source…
The nuance of the verbiage, though discreet, is deliberate
For the naked youth whose cry dare shatter the continuum of space itself
And yet need not rupture the now theoretical cord
Brought forth by miracle of life as mother nourishes babe
Is it treason perhaps, relinquishing ration that home is the fertile nest
Knowing not to retreat to womb but invited to exist in unison
With murmuring which echoed outside as much as from within,
The chords of the calling tone, pray, come here, do not go
Though, home I go, at death no longer guided to the place of birth
For home was never branded in her but a fire lit still for us
Was not predestined by seed but planted in ear by love’s embracing whisper
Home I go, not to remind me of where it all began but where I yet grow
For if to home I come by reverse memory in this way
We know not if it dare invite us in, nor bear fruit this day at all
If home lived in the peripheral lens where the soul was informed
Of its sentience, then to come home defies the law of pursuing only the uncharted.
Pray I recall that no such spectacle signifies the homecoming
A memory I may revisit but not relive promises no longevity
No prosperity within the oracle of time beyond, and thus
I shall go home to the familiar tune I have yet heard from outside the bound.
Copyright © Blair Johnson | Year Posted 2026
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Details |
Blair Johnson Poem
The stature of the oak tree
Measures holiest if judged
By natural proximity to sky
But will never reach heaven
And thus by ego of man,
That which extends beyond
But not upon highest
Must be leveled to uplift mankind
Axe to trunk yields the great length
The most capital for human venture
To build the path he may climb
Faith in founded access to sky at last
What we know of uplifting oak
Begs us to recall the sequence
That while man constructs the stair
Too is oak in which he will be buried
For the sacrifice of dear oak
Who was exalted in godly breath, light
Promises that thou who dare tear down
May be buried low, below root, below feet
And when river rise, when mankind pride
In terrain built higher still
It is man who shall sink deeper
As oak, most faithful, did not defy own nature.
Copyright © Blair Johnson | Year Posted 2026
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