sometimes it has a name, a face, sometimes many, sometimes it is without these. sometimes it floats untethered within until the years are strung together and the sun shines on. between ancient stone walls,
along curving seaside paths, beneath branches of pine, maple, birch, under expansive prairie skies - to celebrate, honour, to remember, mourn - when we feel joy, brimming with sunshine, content in who we are - our bodies light in the air, the birdsong dancing around us, smiling comes easily - a poem dedicated to those of us who live "too far away". at seventeen, her residential summer job was forty-five minutes away; the moon.
forty minutes too far. just like her town, ten minutes from the district high school; five minutes too far; who’d travel such a distance? can you imagine a commute that long everyday? she moved to another solar system for university - two hours, fifty-five minutes too far. she traversed the galaxy to go home on breaks; a few journeyed by spaceship to visit her - but a few only - sisters weren’t allowed in the castle; little cousins, however - little cousins were defended traversing the kingdom's wild forests, meadows of poisonous plants, lakes teeming with monsters. little cousins learned the view from the castle’s highest tower could make even the most majestic treehouse disappear. |