Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Cliche

19 November 2014

Bluebonnets. They're just a piece
of a larger image that became history
when I wasn't looking. I didn't know
I should treasure the memories.
They weren't Heaven, but they're gone--
I am a cliche. An ache like heartburn
nothing can relieve--the medicine
is out of reach--to have a moment of a home I knew.
I don't want to go back in time. I want
to go back in space, retrieve the piece, long gone,
I didn't know I lost.

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Shin Raymun & Chopsticks

18 November 2014

I consume my Shin Raymun with a fork,
a Brat-variety world traveler to the core.
I pick and choose which
pieces of parts of the world I embrace.

I could use chopsticks (and have),
just as my father could have chosen to live
off base, in the heart of Seoul.

Few people did.

Don't misunderstand me--
I know how to use chopsticks.
I know how to choose a bowl of ramen.
It's the Brat in me who chooses one
and not the other
and sees no contradiction.

Saturday, August 16, 2014

Moving On

16 August 2014
A memory


The quality of the doors has changed;
of the walls, the floors, the light.
This room was a different place before
we packed up our precious things.
We had possessed it, made it move,
and now it lies still, not dead, but waiting.
No longer ours, it longs, as do we,
for what comes next.

George MacDonald

"Home is ever so far away in the palm of your hand, and how to get there it is of no use to tell you. But you will get there; you must get there; you have to get there. Everybody who is not at home, has to go home."

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