The RunawayIt isn’t trouble with those I live with
That makes me leave the houses where I live
The stories they talk about with each other
Are never about me. I have not been there.
The laughter is not a laughter I share
It is always theirs, not mine.
But outside there is always the beach
The Outer Banks, the boom of breakers
In the moist night air
I slip out when no one notices
And walk South in shorts and t-shirt
Striding fast but easily fast
My bare feet striking the sand, heels first.
Leaving my prints behind.
The longshore breeze blowing cool on my face
The ocean waves traveling unimaginable distances
To rumble and spume in luminous glory
The beach is my home, and mine alone
The damp sand giving to my feet
A million stars scattered on the trail of night
At sea, a single light wavers, lost and alive
And in a sudden strangeness, it seems
I have always been walking here.
It is all so uncannily familiar
That I cannot imagine myself not here.
My real self has forever been part of the rumbling night
Always known this wind and sand
This scattering of stars
And only now
It is only after leaving the confines of home,
And set out walking, and diving into the sea
That I have joined myself.
Only now have I remembered who I really am.
Poetry by Ashe
Read 295 times
Written on 2017-04-27 at 16:03
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