Laraine Goddard

Coming Home

I return
to what? I am
empty and full;
my feelings locked away when
they burned my body.

Will you
habibi, take
me back once more?
Shall we go together now
to the olive grove?

Orbed sun,
soft skin, locked
together. Whispers.
Your hair falls; a single curl.
My eyes drink you in.

The roots 
of the olive tree
run deep into our land;
her branches reach out, turning
towards the stars.

—Laraine Goddard

Habibi: my beloved, darling.

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