The Great And Powerful Poem by Riley Choma

On some days you are the great and powerful.

The dad that could retrieve sunglasses- purposefully dropped- from any lake bottom.

The dad who picked me up and flew me through the kitchen above his head, as if I was always meant to fly.

It's no doubt that I miss this, and of course I follow the yellow brick road.

And how nieve am I to think there wouldn't be flying monkeys?

Of course there must be a reason that I miss you...

Flying monkeys.

But I ignore them like I always do...

And when I get to emerald city, and you finally let me in, I am happy- but only for a moment.

Because you are hiding behind a curtain, just an ordinary man, climbing further into a vodka bottle...

I want to go home- you are the great and powerful, surely you can send me home...

You scowl and raise your voice- 'I am just the man behind the curtain.'

But you don't seem to understand that  you choose to be...

And everyday I am caught between walking the yellow brick road, hoping you'll choose different, and tapping together my ruby red feet.

There is no place like home.

There is no place like home.

There is no place like ho-

What is home?

I tap my feet a hundred times but I always end up in front of the curtain.

And its damaging- but I guess my brain just can't stop associating you with home.

I can't see the man behind the curtain- only the great and powerful...

But I suppose we all choose to believe what we want to believe.

Don't we...