If you asked me where I live...

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)

1 comment:

  1. 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.

    "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