FRESH OFF THE PAGE: sleepwalking

sleepwalking


sleepwalking

behind me unwinds
a long trail of years,
memories emerging
like fireflies at dusk,
to carry me back
take me away home;
down past fields
across rivers, streams
over mountains, miles
along dark highways
to a door that still
waits for me, ajar

there I stand, silenced
looking into the gap,
my hand rising up
pressing upon wood,
fearing shadows
rising up to greet me–
finding inside only
an empty house
rooms closed, unused
windows shut tight
against the sun;
no one living there,
nothing finally at home

Listen to this poem read aloud: