Читать книгу In the Same Place - N. Thomas Johnson-Medland - Страница 12
Place
ОглавлениеPlace is the
kind of thing
that gets under
the nails, behind
the ears, and
between the toes.
It follows you
everywhere—
lending just a
hint of displacement
and yearning toward
the sun of home—
a flower turning
to the solar path;
all day long.
You can almost
hear it in every
sound; just enough
to know that this
new space is not
“IT.”
Dorothy took
it with her and
used “IT” as a beacon
to escape the wonders
of Oz.
Moses had “IT”
just behind his eyes
so he could know the
place he had only
dreamed of.
Indians and
dinosaurs longed
for “IT” before they
died and would
walk an aimless
outward journey
by feeling an
inner trek to the
place that was
the origin of their
very own self.
Columbus
set out to
find the
place of his
discovery
hoping it would
mirror the “IT”
of what he
knew—
amplified with
untold riches.
You get older
and the longing
for the remnants
of place grows
deeper, richer, and
stronger with each
passing moist
breath of
time apart.
The skin can
feel “IT” in an
instant, the nose
knows “IT” with
one whiff.
We search our days
for similar warmth and
familiar tastes; a fireside
seat and the hint of
cinnamon and clove.
The sun can
slant itself
in just the same
way; the air can
blow itself in
a long known
fashion. That
then becomes
“IT” and we
have arrived.
What is our life
but an ongoing
and defiant shaping
of all that is
into all that
used to be.
This is
where the
old can touch the
new; the
past can
change our
future.
We begin ourselves in
a place called home;
a place that
has made all the difference.
It gave us
the lexicon of
being that we carried
and used the remainder
of our days
to make sense
of all that is.
Place is the
kind of thing
that gets under
the nails, behind
the ears, and
between the toes.
It follows you
everywhere—
lending just a
hint of displacement
and yearning toward
the sun of home—
a flower turning
to the solar path;
all day long.
