Musings

“Remember this Return”

Don’t we paint the same pictures

Again and again? I have lost my count—let’s begin again.

For a long time, I wondered why they came at all.

But when they did I caught their flash of color, their undulations of form

In the seething memory of my mind’s net.

and with my snare kept them set,

not to hold them captive but to let them rest.

In the cradle of my eye they took shape,

under the lens of my heart, veiled by a drape.

For a long time I wondered

why the pictures came at all

But when I found out why,

they only returned,

as though answering

some unvoiced call.