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Never Home

Never Home

I have never returned to Pocatello
except this last time,
dragged back by necessity,
not belonging.

Before, I could always support myself.
Outside these borders
I found ways to live,
ways to stand on my own feet.
But here—
here I could not.

Every return has been a tether,
not a choice.
Every trip back
a misunderstanding by others
who never saw what this place is.

Pocatello has never been my home.
Even with family here,
it has always been a cell.
Its streets are gray bars.
Its air is a lock.
Its walls are duty,
its roof is silence.

And me—
I have always been the prisoner
looking out the window,
dreaming of a door
that leads anywhere else.

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