CAN’T GO HOME
I can’t go home because
It isn’t as it was…
“My” house is still there
But it’s been used to care
For folks adjusting to the “outside” buzz.
I’ve turned State Hospital Blue,
Where my Dad worked for years and Mom too…
Where years of neglect
Many buildings have wrecked,
Where a wrecking ball may punch them through.
Field Days were many years past,
I don’t remember when the last
Patient carnival was
But I remember because
I saw a real bird carver’s last.
Our once self-sufficient “town”
Once vacated tends to run down…
The Beauty Shop no more
Resounds like a store,
The patients must go into town.
Most patient-filled buildings in ruins,
Some are kept up for other doings…
Campus fire and police
Still keep up their beats,
With a smaller circle of crewing.
Patients who stay are sicker,
Others in half-way homes quicker…
To not keep so many to dicker.
I could go on with much more,
The bakery, laundry and store…
The coal-fired steam plant
Pumps water but can’t
Be used for heating anymore.
Once home, where I grew up, exchanged
Its purpose for a world rearranged…
What went on before
No longer will soar,
I may visit, but it’s not home e’er again.