Like A Soul For Its Home Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I won’t say anything more about what you shouldn’t
Do,
What you do:
Your children are in the backyards of preschool,
The mariposas are back again in Mexico following their
Never mindful flight paths,
Forgetting that they were once creatures as almost
As beautiful as you,
They sift down like crackerjack leaves through the forest
And bask on the cool lips of
Rattlesnakes,
While down beneath their arboreal leaves, the state
Of Guerrero Mexico is in a great cacophony, but it also
Does not remember that it is where you were
Born,
Alma- but my song remembers everything- lingering like
An enamored nimbus above a herd of unicorns,
Like a child waiting forever for his mother,
Like a dog for his master,
Like a soul for its home.