of home

some say it takes courage to leave
and i proclaim that it takes
just as much to stay

a kind of courage that i am barely
learning to hold in clumsy, uncertain hands
heart heavy with the weight of wondering

what might be
what might be meant to be
what might be meant to be known in all those
places which are
which are far away from
which might someday be called

i look with some envy at those
with such a comfortable grasp on permanence,
their two feet planted in a single place,
heart sprouting forth new roots and branches all the time,
leaves unfurling new breath to their surroundings,
not afraid of something coming to cut them down, pull them out

at the root of all this anxiety
about comfort and permanence
perhaps is this–
an inheritance: trauma passed down
through my blood and bones
of a people who have only known home
so well for so long before
everything is upturned, some of it
burned down, erased, eradicated

starting over and over and over
is in my ancestry
a cycle that has ended for some others
but will not end in me.

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