How does one know
\nwhere one should be?
\nI have a few memories
\nwhich are timeless.
\nThey belong nowhere
\nso they belong to me
\nin a quiet, space-less way.
\nWas it a past life, where a road of trees
\nstretched in an autumn morning,
\ncool, leading to a mystery?
\nWas it a French summer,
\na place whose words belonged to themselves?
\nI see arching branches
\nand live strangely,
\nwearing dark clothes and being young.<\/p>\n
The other is also a place.
\nA gray house with day lilies by Lake Erie.
\nIt looms silently among its trees.
\nThe lake smells of wet fragrance,
\nberries, craw-fish and mossy stones.
\nI don\u2019t live there,
\nbut I go there.
\nSomewhere, past the third closest star,
\nwhere in space-less time
\nI visit for a moment,
\nI follow the tracks of old rails
\nwith weeds growing in the trellises,
\ndandelions and lambs quarters.<\/p>\n
Where I belong however
\ncan not decide itself.
\nI am making a new star every day.
\nPulling books from the shelves,
\nworrying about the not-done things
\nthat never need to be done,
\nand doing things which never need doing.
\nIn a way we are all homeless.
\nNothing is still,
\nso we can not be complete.
\nLove persists,
\nbut it goes into the distance.
\nFear subsides like a tide
\nand comes back.
\nHope gleams like a star
\nsubmerged in water.<\/p>\n
And all the time,
\nwe leave one pair of arms
\nfor another,
\ngoing down tracks where
\na great engine rumbles,
\nand I throw apples to soldiers,
\na train passing in front of a yard,
\ngoing off,
\ndisappearing,
\nwith the perfume of apples on my fingers. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
How does one know where one should be? I have a few memories which are timeless. They belong nowhere so they belong to me in…<\/p>\n