Left and Home

I’ve been thinking about leaving

My Grandmother left her country and came here without thinking about the place where she learned what smells were like

Without thinking about the sun’s brightness there and the way she would walk in order to cover her eyes

She couldn’t pack up those things so she didn’t think about them

The rhythm of the day

The pace of boiling water the pace of bringing out the cups

The paces which make up a place

She busied herself with new rhythms and new ways to stack the cups

Busied is not an escape it’s a new pace

It’s the pace when you are creating a new pace

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This entry was published on January 21, 2013 at 2:10 am and is filed under Fiction Writing by Jessie, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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