Ten years ago,
we were scratching out our names
on the soft wood of spaces,
that would never belong to us.
Against the grain I know, but we were young,
stumbling through the outlines of joy.
There will be other spaces,
more time, our own sunshine
I hadn’t learnt that yet.
A year later, a different country
A place where I understood the language
but nothing else.
Years were spent making meaning,
in rooms with no windows
and houses with dying dogs.
I watched from inside the soft petals of snow
come down on unused swings.
Few years later, across the coast
someone who didn’t quite know me
turned to me and said – ‘Welcome back’
And for a while I mistook it as – ‘Welcome home’
And I tried to stop the sprint.
It’s taken me yet another ocean to stop running.
Rest, perhaps a little while,
get the legs out of water a little while.
I wish I knew then as I know now,
that you can’t outrun a storm.
That leaving is the storm’s job, not yours.
That if you sit still long enough,
everything eventually passes.
Now a gentle rain, a grand soft day,
Now the clouds beginning to clear.
Even hints of sunshine.
Now I step outside,
Today I want to play.