Homecoming

I'm taking myself back, piece by piece,
Strand by silver strand,
Opening up the plastered-over cracks
And inspecting the damage,
The sides worn smooth
Through laying open and unhealed.

Echoes of past wounds, and old stories
Still sounding like tremors, 
The remnants of a long-gone earthquake,
Not gone at all,
Rattling on in stealthy whispers,
Quiet enough to remain unchecked - until now.

I am building new branches,
Connecting dormant depths to surface level,
While a makeshift way of being springs forth,
Like a scaffold,
Holding firm while change takes place,
And beds into my awakening being.

I am coming home.