Stead

Winter light reflections carry me through this city
with the clarity of a pin drop in a soundproof room.
I have been here before, with you,
in another place nothing alike but
you were home.
A blacksmith splinters prayers into statues
of a religion as foreign as everything else here
in another place nothing alike until
you became home.
Arcade memories carry me through these nights
with the clarity of masterful brush strokes.
I have been here before, with you,
in another place everything alike.
You are home.

2 thoughts on “Stead”

  1. What I keep enjoying about your poetry is its evocative capacity. The vivid images in my mind when I read this – I appreciate them all the more since I feel that they’re bound to be vastly different from what you saw or anyone else sees in these words.

  2. Thank you! I always find it interesting (and humbling!) that a very precise image in my head will provoke something else entirely in the reader’s mind that is equally powerful.

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