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
Lights in the Hand 