Diana Darby ** "I V" ** Intravenous

Still Home

Just when I thought it was getting quiet.
Just when I thought I might finally have peace
of mind,
it’s happening again.
A white paper arrives in my mail box
with the words “notice to vacate”
and once again,
I am back in January,
my mother running naked through the house,
my father at the Kroger.
Police
and sirens,
and doctors,
and needles,
and neighbors,
nosy neighbors,
and ‘For Sale’ signs,
and greedy funeral-home-made-up-looking-realtors,
and money moving,
and disappearing,
and bulldozers,
and dirt being raised,
and my childhood home falling,
and all the unrest,
coming and coming,
and no stillness,
no stillness
now for three years.
Trips to emergency rooms,
hospital stays,
screaming,
and pills,
so many pills.
Doctor visits,
and trips to the dentists,
and surgeries,
and rehab,
so much,
so much,
that I have almost given up
the thought
of ever having stillness again,
of ever feeling calm,
of ever finding
home.