The Flight

Where have you carried me now,
If I stay here, I will
If I leave, I will bear on my scarred face
For years
The haunting stamp of what I’ve
And nobody will come
To someone, whose eyes are home
To ghosts;
Much too far you have carried me,
Much too close
To the other side;
Much too brave I have been
Where I should have been wise;
Now it’s too late to listen
To fear
Or to hope to survive
This flight

Ta Prohm

at Ta Prohm Temple, Angkor, Cambodia
at Ta Prohm Temple, Angkor, Cambodia

I thought, she said,
Since I was made of rock,
That naught existed
That was stronger than me;
Much time had had to pass
Before it proved me wrong,
Before the roots of trees
Which human hands had felled
Grew through their pain,
Forgiving what’d destroyed them,
Embracing me, whom they’d been
Killed for, as their own;
I thought, she said,
That I was made of stone;
I see instead
That we have all been made
Of life and boundless hope