Lost connection
to the motherland
birthed and wondering
soul's unrest
forced to glide upon the
earth
looking for
where we came from.
Sewn into a beaded pocket
I am a lover lost
forced to glide over
words
miles and miles
of black on white
I keep you in my book
Refer to you in footnotes
stamped in glittery snow.
If I grow to be old
will I mention you in passing?
Casually cast a line out
a line pulled faintly
by a tugging of the past
--let go--
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