Having abandoned one, I claim the other.

Rain speckles the driveway.

Solitude pays its toll with unmet expectations,
thunder receding, clouds shriveling to dust.

The mockingbird chirrs its cricket tune
before flying to a higher perch.

What you call home I call diminishment.

What you surrender, I bundle and mail to strangers.




26 thoughts on “Exile

  1. In a way, this one reminds me of your palinodes, as there seem to be opposing/retracting impulses at work — the progression from (self-)exile to “diminishment” (quite the opposite to the agency one might associate with the initial choice), and then eventually to dependency on “surrender” (generosity?) on the part of the diminishing factor, in order to reestablish connection to the outside… This says everything and nothing, and resonates deeply, though I can hardly find a foothold for understanding. At any rate, it evokes a sense of compassion and solidarity in me.

    Liked by 1 person

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  3. There is something so lovely about this poem — so many specific touchstones caught within it (mockingbird and cricket tune; thunder and dust; home and diminishment; surrender and strangers)… My reactions to your poems should no longer surprise me, and yet, and yet…they echo through me like a half-remembered voice. I must read and reread this one to try to unravel its potency and my response. Thank you!

    Liked by 1 person

    • As always, I am grateful for your comments, Carrie. With pieces like this, poems that don’t follow a linear “strategy,” my hope is that the words resonate in some fashion, to allow the reader to find a personal connection.


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