It has been so long,
I cannot tell you,
you could not imagine
how long I have waited.

In exile from friends,
from my boss, her yells
did seem then like serenades,
in exile from memory and plans.

I am back now, and I feel
older and wise, something in me
enthusiastic and young, is not dead
but tired, sleepy. I feel helpless

not in control, but trying to be, and
I'll always remember that when
I was exiled from poetry, exiled from everything,
it was my mother's smile - her hugs kept me going.

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