Belonging

I walk for the last time

Through empty rooms

My bedroom

Once again replaying films

Hearing my music.

In the sitting room

Looking out at the tree Da planted from apple seed

The hedge he trimmed

The lawn I mowed

Steps I sat on.

In the kitchen

Ma’s dresser and stool.

I walk for the last time

Through our hall

Leaving behind my sense of belonging.

 

Know Me

people sprout remarks from

Mouths that don’t know me

People stare from

Eyes that don’t know me

People point from

Fingers that don’t know me

I wish they would think.

I am human

Not a freak.

 

 

 

Hermit

In a sparse windowless room

Red linoleum on the floor

Grey haired

Long beard

He stood

Back against the bare wall

He spoke.

I surveyed my surroundings.

Waking without

catching hold of the words spoken.