Chalk

 

Speak of your exile
of how
you don’t belong
or fit in
– its the key
that unlocks the door
to the way
Home

This fragment
of chalk
nesting
on all my journeys
in my breast pocket
nesting
on all my journeys

holding you
in my palm
I saw
a form
in my mind

Felt ancestors
around me
their whispers
issue from
my fingers
as

I sought
the form,
a form,
a way of speaking,
an invitation
both given
and received

and heard you say
speak of your exile
of how you don’t belong
or fit in –
it is
the key
that unlocks the door
to the way
Home

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