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I stood at home and wept.

I wept at the sight of hostas and Queen Anne’s lace
   and petunias and lambs’ ears
   that grew
   while I was in the desert.
I wept in gratitude for rain I did not see or hear
   or feel on my skin
   when it watered my gardens
   in my absence.
I wept with shame that my garden can thrive in neglect
   and yield tomatoes that I do not earn and flowers
   that bud and blossom to my surprise.

I wept out of loneliness
   in my empty house while my family traveled without me
   jealous of those returning to homes
   filled with family and animals while
   my welcome was an overgrown garden
   and a swarm of houseflies.
I wept for the intimacy of the journey
   that we will not experience…