A Stranger

I could lay no more

in the sharp grass of Grand Ledge.

Instead, I occupied a blanket,

in a crowd of chairs, positioned like

a firing squad,

all aiming at me.

As the high school band

played their ominous lullabies,

any trace of people faded.

Becoming a ghost,

I roamed this deserted town,

the only sound my echoed footsteps.

When I arrived home,

my summer was full of

dog walks at high noon,

laughing at old home videos,

Mom’s freshly cooked meals.

Then, Grand Ledge invaded.

I was a prisoner.

My bed was empty, empty,

transforming into something foreign,

and familiar walls became

eyes, always watching, staring.

A stranger in my own home.