if you ask me where i live
i live right here
on the land my father worked
and loved
and showed to me
with such enthusiasm
the land that eventually held him as he left
the land that holds him now that he has left
i live right here
where we girls were taught
to shoot better than the boys
where the sky held us
down to the earth,
the ground had no control
i lived right there
where i could believe in
people and marriage and the grocers
the doors remained unlocked, we trusted
but home left
in a sudden rush to get out the door,
and slam
dust in my face, my eyes
in an affair, it left.
it left in i a car accident, at a funeral.
and so im left now roaming, homeless
leaching and loving on anyone with a promise.
(this was an assignment in my poetry class. written 090810)
Erica: Just read your "Returning to Here" prose on your Facebook notes page, but couldn't leave a comment at the site, so opted to post my comment here in your blog.
ReplyDelete"Returning" shows evidence that you have attained the philosophical state known as true "mindfulness" of the "here." Gautama Buddha would be proud of you.
For further consideration of how your journey is similar to the path others have walked before, and how your prose resonates ancient traditions, check out these starting points (copy and paste to browser): www.43folders.com/2006/04/07/mindfulness
and www.working-well.org/articles/pdf/mindfulness.pdf
All the best, cousin John Kubler
Kubes2k@sbcglobal.net