I left home without saying goodbye | to anyone | |||||||||||
I’m sorry | ||||||||||||
but this country is full | of distances | |||||||||||
my loss of words | is just one of them | |||||||||||
another is the highway | they keep building | |||||||||||
men in orange vests | where do they go | |||||||||||
when they close their eyes | is it in | |||||||||||
to someone’s arms | ||||||||||||
when I close my eyes | ||||||||||||
my eyes open | in a cave | of mourning | ||||||||||
it’s easy | to surround yourself | |||||||||||
with what is not | what is no longer | |||||||||||
another distance | is the road | |||||||||||
between the eyes | looking out | |||||||||||
and the eyes looking in | another is my mother | |||||||||||
land | my father | |||||||||||
looking back | across the ocean | at himself | ||||||||||
looking ahead | across the ocean | |||||||||||
some people | look at us | & say | namaste | |||||||||
some people | say terrorist | |||||||||||
their point | is that we belong to different | |||||||||||
ways of saying hello | ||||||||||||
& we will go | into separate goodbyes | |||||||||||
another distance | for strangers | for estrangements | ||||||||||
I try to remember the last thing | my father said | |||||||||||
to me | resurrect | the exact words | ||||||||||
not just the meaning | which could have been nothing | |||||||||||
other than | when are you coming home | |||||||||||
he means | to call back | the son | I wasn’t | |||||||||
my first | distance | & where | are the men | in | orange | |||||||
vests | where | is the road | they were | building |