Proem: Country Between Lives

 

 

 

Thus perhaps may travel be

      as much destination

As destiny, as much speed

      as the process of pause,

The stasis of a precipice, the fate

      of the moment incognito.

 

Like the airport between flights,

      it is a country between

Lives, that exiles us from our

      quibbling chores, the shores

Of our exacting familiars,

      our cavilling responsibilities.

 

Except for the borders drawn

      between our arrivals and our

Departures, it is a strangely

      guiltless territory, indifferent

To our expectations, ignorant

      of our iniquities.

 

These are the overnight places

      where we, our footfalls

Echoing on the pavement,

      survey the shadows of a city,

And seduced by our own anonymity,

      unpack all our grief,

And take remorseless comfort

      from tolerant strangers.

 

 

 January 9, 1995

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