searching for clues left behind by
an abandoned past.
Memory is like that,
dusting the corners in search of a word
dislodged by the wind and rain.
In the crowd of strangers
I look for the face of a friend
to find my place.
It is in the unfamiliar that the familial is found.
I had to go far away
to see what was close at hand.
If not found by day,
I listened to the dream in the night,
for only in this body, the soul is found.
Andrew Norton, Provence, July 2013
“My country is in my soul” Marc Chagall