people whose voices are thick as honey
and who walk even slower than that.
Where rain is beautiful and
snow is a blessing, to be celebrated,
not to be pushed by and through
like it had never once meant something magic.
My heart lies on the Grounds where my
feet got soaked through by this very snow,
where my straightened hair was made
curly with the flakes that melted in it.
There, a part of me I’d left curled
up for ages straightened up and burst free.
This ball of fear, of pressure, of not being good enough,
was gone and finally, finally, I was home.
Among the arches and columns and gardens
of this beautiful place, it’s the people
I found a home in. The people whose honeyed
voices extended far beyond their vocal chords,
the people whose slow pace did not hinder
the eagerness to befriend.
I left my heart in the South at
the University of Virginia, and in
122 days 1 hour 36 minutes and 32 seconds,
when I return to retrieve it, I’ll finally be home.