From whence we came and where we go, landscapes
follow, flashbacks flow from childhood homes so far-away,
to skeletal evidence of sorrows, secrets, and songs of yesterday.
Weather-beaten dairies or deeply-faded photographs hrdly hold
mere traces of what was truly there, our minds rush over details
and dialogue of kindred spirits found,
then left along the way.
Do people come and go, or do we?
Faulty fragments of what we have collected
travel with us. Destination to designation; another apartment,
another home, immemorial addresses on report cards, bank
statements, divorce certificate, a parent’s obituary.
Disappointments remain undeniably present and unaccounted for.
Our recollection of fact and fiction, over time, is rarely as accurate
as what it once was. We remember our first phone number, but
must think hard to recall the ones that followed. Even now,
area codes blur from one city to the next.
Where am I now?
Impending move to a familiar place, months away but still
a trace of anxiety. Or is it apprehension?
What will be there when I return?

© 2024 j.g. lewis