Coming Home

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I see you in the glass. 
Welcome home! 
Hard to believe 
You are a man 

Until now I have avoided 
Even glancing at you, 
Except in those few frightful 
Moments when ecstasy 
Or despair or disgust 
Hobbled my inhibitions, and I 
Dared look at you, coyly. 

If I stare at you, am I narcissus? 
Will jealous Echo curse me with 
Inescapable solipsism? 

They said the night might come 
When with joy I would greet 
You at the door and say, Come in 
I have been waiting for you 

I have prepared a place for you 
And ginger tea, old cheese 
New bread, old wine 

This is your home 
I built it for you 
The altar of gold and white 
The kitchen, the walnut pig, 
The yellow pepper

I never dreamed that 
When you returned you 
Would smile winsomely
And we would tell jokes and
Laugh and I would lose all fear 

Shall we dance? 

Let me wash your feet with
My beard. I have kept the
Oil warm and saved the 
Sandalwood incense that
I got for you from a god in Giza 

I have loved you all your life.
Even while I ignored you for
Another I did not hate you 

Here are the love letters 
I wrote to you 
Here is the poem I wrote
To call you home 

Here is a note I scrawled
For you one night on a ferry
Near Crete when death 
Came aboard and I feared
That I would be gone 
When you came back 

I am glad that you came
While I still have radiance
And energy to comfort you
To honor you and me, buddy 

Tomorrow we will 
Meet my children 
They will love you 
As they have loved me 

Come. Let us feast together.