Buried land

Natasha Matar

 

In the moments I long

To rebuild

The land

Where my footsteps

Were once imprinted;

The land is buried.

 

My mind is troubled by this emptiness.

 

Will I remember the way the sun

Followed me through

The woods

When it burns out its fuel?

 

Skeletal trees

Request

Me to fill

Their vacant sites

 

Desperately,

I try

To piece together

The shapes of my past

 

Yet surroundings are far

Too large to fit

In my retaining space

 

The painting of a reflection sparks

Fragmented recollection,

Scraped sky

 

And for as long as I can remember

With all but the places

That are presently home

 

Like old skin cells left to dust,

Echoes in the distance

A blurry dream,

Shadows settle on the places I have left.