Headed Home

Here is the driveway, a row of dogwood.  It isn’t lovely this time of year.

The path to righteousness must be paved even before we are ready.

I am recycling a moment:  one October evening, little house, cars in the yard.

I long for someone (me, perhaps) to say absolutely.

A woman hands me a coin, presses it to my palm like a prayer.

I have been abandoned.  (—scratch that—)  I feel like I have been abandoned.

All forms of landscape are autobiographical, thank goodness.

Just so we’re clear, the darkness I’m about to show you is all mine.

 

–Erin Veith; from I Closed My Eyes To Tell That Story
   (Latham House Press, 2014)

 

 

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