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A claustrophobic living
room, a couch, loveless seating,
an endtable
with lamp, barren coffee table,
soulless in a shallow room, and
for some reason,
a mop.

There was a kitchen
I couldn’t use;
a bathroom, I could.

It was my existence,
memory stretching
within those walls
to nothing,
and the same
to wake to.

I wasn’t supposed to leave,
somehow, I did, and
found myself
on a forgotten street-corner.

Others came. Some men.
A couple women.
The eight year old girl.

I didn’t know these people
and turned to leave.
“No stay,” they protested.
“You are one of us.
It is time to remember.”


I remembered.
All of them. The millennia.
The incarnations. The why
we oft stepped down
and into mortality.


we danced Remembrance;
we danced Celebration;
we danced Love.

posted for open link night at DVersePoets.