I’ve come here often,
when I could remember fear,
when time seemed to stand still
I would look over the horizon,
picture running through fields as a child,
suddenly thrown into my teens,
those places I would weary my return.
I wonder about people
those I knew,
those I wished I might never know again,
I remember why it is I sometimes don’t really like people,
not everyone of course – I do love you.
just when I might begin the next year,
I wonder sometimes why it is we continue to return to that place
we began to fear
when time allowed us to question ourselves,
when we had far too much energy to worry about who we
might have been, had become, wanted to seem,
where it was we all remember this might begin,
idioms of pain,
little moments of reckoning,
stir the anxiety in our mind,
while returning home,
where there is love, where we unwind.
we all do return after all,
it is sort of ironic really,
how quickly we begin to wonder again.