Heading North Poem by Edwina Reizer

Heading north to where I was born,
my feelings are always the same.
I know it's of family left behind.
But where do I place the blame?

No one knows better than I
that call to go back home
to the Atlantic ocean and its spray.
It's what I've always known.

It draws us like a magnet
and the closer that we get
brings on that familiarity
but still my eyes get wet.

The tears flow because I'll miss
seeing both my sons.
They are planted in the south
where the rivulets of red clay runs.

Two grandkids will grow
and neither will I see.
By the time I get to feel them near
will seem like an eternity.

So heading north takes me home
but brings my melancholy on.
And every trip as the miles add up
I wish I could say are gone.

But I can't.