I keep forgetting. What
happened? Something formative.

A visit backward in time. I started
as a normal text. Now a palimpsest.

What is there, now, beneath
the scribbling over?
It once started with a word, my image
of myself, too small. Mishaped
by my own fears.

I passed through small towns
on my journey to what might be home,

Might have been. Might still be.
I was myself and yet not. I waved

like a long-time resident.
Good to see you, everybody,
I told them.
Great to be back to this place
I'm seeing the first time.

Unless there was some
invisible tether, beyond my consciousness,
that tied me to this new landscape.

This is not a dream. Maybe
I am not sleeping well enough.
Maybe I am just experiencing life
full of the murmur of staying
up way too late.

That probably sums up
my teen years.

This is how we came here, forging
a path through a jungle for ages,
swishing of a machete like wiper blades.

Or how we thought we might arrive,
and I will do my best to catch up.

JD DeHart’s most recent book of poems has been released by Dreaming Big Publications. It's called A Five-Year Journey and here is the Amazon link:

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