A whole world passes between
that day and today.
Because sometimes belonging
is a story you grow back into
only after leaving.
And what we find
is not the place we left,
but the one we carried-
quietly,
the whole way back.
Tag: poetry
The past is still ahead of us.
Light always gets there first.
You can only start
from where you stand.
The rest arrives
slowly,
in the shape you’ve been waiting to remember.
Immersion—
electronic sound, sustained vibration,
music that lasts twenty minutes
and asks you to remain inside it
until it changes you.
There is beauty in finding yourself
inside the creation of others.
As if someone else, somewhere,
has already translated the world into a language
you can finally hear.
Some truths don’t arrive gently.
They surround you.
And in staying,
they make sense of the world
when nothing else does.
In Passing
Say it began with —
trucks and truck stops,
a gap in a fence hedge
where someone slipped through.
Vans. Garages.
My spirit raised
in a hilltop haze
to ease — oh, not then.
And then,
a lovely fluid hand.
We return to the same place
not to begin again
but to understand what never ended.
Rainwater
Agape love does not begin by moving outward. It begins by moving downward—into the broken places we cannot reach on our own.
And once that vertical current was established, everything else followed.
The place I imagined light went
when it left us.