These are the sounds of home
alongside the hum of traffic
and the creak of my bones.
Long walks bring both
to my ears and balance
death and life on a scale.
The mating calls atop
telegraph poles
and the drone of blue
and red warning lights
tell me stories
which all end
in the same way:
you are so lucky
to be alive.
You are so lucky
to have a home
which isn’t whitewashed
in sterility
and the wails of patients
hidden behind drawn curtains
or crowds of relatives.
You are so lucky
to have a home
which does not disappear
like Dorothy’s
or rainforests,
a home in one place
found by footsteps
not by wings
on a slipstream.
You are so lucky
to be here
and to hear
sirens and birdsong;
heartache and love;
time and its music;
death and life.
© Kristiana Reed 2019
Kristiana Reed is…
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