The Book Life

4.28 | April 30, 2010


I am tired of backwards. I want up,
or sideways, or something. People behind me
are smoking and speaking Italian.
Let’s be friends. Let’s go back to Italy.
See? Backwards. I’ve already been to Italy,
not that I can’t go again, but still –
there are so many places I haven’t been.

I learned the other day that “metaphor”
comes from the Greek for “to travel”
and “to carry.” I liked that it was both,
because when you travel, you’re always
carrying something. Even if you don’t bring luggage,
you carry yourself.

I found myself while traveling,
and this is what I’m talking about,
about tired of backwards. I traveled
to learn to move forward.
And while I was out there, traveling,
not in Italy, but out there, there was this moment
I could never quite fit into a poem.
A moment where I knew I had caught it –
the person I was in that moment.

I’ve spent so much time reliving that moment,
telling the story but just never writing it down,
that I feel like I’ve already written this.
So maybe if I actually write it,
I can stop reliving it,
and try to actually re-find it.

The moment itself was the poem.
This is nothing more than record:

once, everything aligned.

[PROMPT: Intuition. Free write on an a-ha moment in your life, then poem it.]


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