Thanks to You, Tennessee

At once, I thought I didn't know them.

A stranger amongst a stranger crowd.

I found myself a shy little fly amidst

an array of lightning bugs.

Shrouding my heart in not quite darkness,

I hid myself from joy.

Hid from the stars above my bed, and,

most importantly,

From the southern kindness that was

welcoming me in.

And now I fly away, leaving

Traces of myself over fields of

fresh wheat.

Over the lime green trees,

and in the fresh water flowing over

a dam of 1876.

I fly away, taking with me a reflection

of myself that I had not quite seen before.

A reflection that I saw in the smoke

from their cigarettes and in the sparkle

of his bright, blue eyes.

I fly away from the fly that was me

and as the universe wraps me up in its

swirling, universal beauty,

I recognize that I, too, am a

Lightning bug that has finally found its

light in what was once an

undiscovered family —

— in what is now a home that is greener

than home.

And now I find myself writing on the

edge of infinity.

I feel inspired to be creative and start

each day anew, and as each day passes

my heart seems to sing a new melody.

And I think that's all thanks to you,

Tennessee.