“Do You Like It Here?”

As I take the long road

running

far away from home

learning

how to ask for help

and what a friend really is,

people always ask me

“Do you like it here?”

 

“That’s a strange question”

I want to say,

“I am always here

wherever I wander,

so if I love myself

I like it ‘here’,

if I live this moment

I like it ’here’”.

 

I know they mean this country

of rolling hills and rainbows

and I do like it,

there’s good and bad,

rich and poor,

rain and sunshine

just like any other,

all of them different.

 

But I want to tell them

I love it here because

‘here’ is the only eternity

we will ever know,

the still point in a spinning world

of passing moments,

eternities lived and lost

to aging memory.

 

Like a mystic returning from

the forest bearing gold,

it turns to ashes in my hands

and people nod politely

before a brief silence and

a safer conversation.

I’m probably drunk anyway,

champagne must’ve gone to my head.

 

And that’s ok too,

you can’t rescue anyone,

let alone your punch-drunk self,

so I pour another glass

and settle in to listen

to their safe words

and muted truths,

every one as worthy as my own.

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