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At Wandering’s End

We begin

2 min readSep 30, 2023
Photo by Andrew Neel on Unsplash

We have come to the end of our wandering
and are left with questions still.

About life and the impending death of all that we hold dear —
and near to us as blankets to infants, they placate our ubiquitous doubts.

We suckle at the teet of dependence
as we roam aimlessly about
the place we called “there” when we used to be “here,”
dreaming that our arrival would assuage our fears.

That all this traipsing was divine rather than for naught —
that all this sacrifice was on purpose rather than a masquerading rot.

On the doorstep of indifference like a fruit basket ignored —
there lies my debt adjacent to yours.

And we gave and toiled, and we served and fought.
Still, we ended up so much further
from the places they taught us
would be full of surprise and wonder, laughter and mirth.

We are here (the place that used to be there),
still waiting for birth pains to subside–
for no more ire that derides to feel fully actualized —
alive in the time we begot.

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