Re(turning)

Returning to a reiterated declaration.

The familiar familial hometown,

A city of muddy creeks and industrial lots, 

The warm night breeze wraps me dry as I walk through its enclaves.

The creeping itch of childhood's memories fail to leave me alone.

Layers of learnt behaviour swarm the brain in the humm of this night. 

I must pay attention to the now,

So as to not lose the future to a misremembered past,

I return to the places that I feel acquainted,

And realign and adjust myself so the familiar becomes the unfamiliar, 

The comfortable, becomes the trial.

This city becomes the place not where a child was raised but an adult was born.

I sit in that house of friction that scrapes like sandpaper,

And embrace my fate like a molten pillar of gold.

It’s never easy to carve out figures of yourself in the place you grew up,

But easy and fulfilled are two different things,

And I am more than just two different people.

I am more than my past, 

equal to the present,

and infinite to my future. 

I am someone returning to the same spot, 

Only to paint it anew in colours of my own.

Colours I’d prefer to see.