Homesick by Cynthia Mutterperl

I see it now
the bridge between past and present.
a superstitious metaphor for metamorphosis
and loss
and moving on.
As if somehow
bridge crossing is a profound accomplishment
while the river just rolls on
regardless of who has crossed.
Raging without a thought
of comings or goings.

I’m homesick for you,
on better days the ache is just a hazy ghost
but, from time to time
it’s searing and sadistic.

you’re there among the pines
and the lonely moaning freight train.
the refracting and retracting
of the northern lights.
and the tall tales around the bonfire.
and nowhere.
the silence without you is deafening.




Cynthia Mutterperl is an Adjunct Professor of Humanities at a small community college and a large online university. She lives in Bucks County, PA, with her husband, four boys, three cats, and one dog. When she’s not hiking in the woods with her dog, teaching philosophy to her students, or building forts with her sons, she is writing. She has been a writer for most of her life, scribbling notes and lines of poetry in her journals, and is currently working on a memoir.

Germ Magazine guest author
… is a contributing guest author for Germ, which means the following criteria (and then some) have been met: possessor of a fresh, original voice; creator of fresh, original content; genius storyteller; superlative speller; fantastic dancer; expert joke teller; handy with a toolbox; brilliant at parties; loves us as much as we love them.


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