This Land Which Built Me
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This land remembers, a constant echo, wherever I wander,
whether between halfway places or brittle storms
over the fence at the edge of our woods near our home
a thread in the fabric of artist and model across time,
inherited memories fragmented over generations,
dragging skyhooks over the forests,
woven together like somebody else’s family tree,
still playing poker behind our teacher’s back
A testament to choices made over lifetimes,
a past forever intertwined in a pause for thought
looking both backward and forward in seconds,
This land remembers, its stories waiting, forever to unfold.
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