It draws me back again

It draws me back again
the hurt, the pain, the sorrow
I'm broken... inside and out

Tendons screeching, muscles burning like molten ore
and my busted heart beats like an angry Zulu dance

But still, it draws me back
like a bad spell or
a junkie to a spoon

Yet the reasons for this almighty dance
is for the others,
the others at home...the calm,
the soft
so far from my own

Where I cannot see, touch, feed or comfort
And this is my bane

Do I do a dance with the silver darlings or
pick a scab off the land
my battered land

The white horses beckon my drum
I will not be done
because the prize waits for me

One way or another....