Tuesday, September 16

Direction

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I open my door that faces to the north,
And close the one to the west.
It is easy.

Now I can hear the tick of the clock,
And it reminds me that time does run out.
It pushes me now,
Instead of taunts.
And I am thankful.

Almost all sound from the adjacent room is quieted.
There is no immediate threat and I can relax,
And I am thankful.

To the east there is only rushing noises -
Those of trains and cars and wind and ambulances.
It is welcome.

I cannot comment on what lies south of here,
Though I can only hope it faces north as well.
And I hope.

At a higher altitude, there is more of the same.
Questions and sounds and coats and souls.
And I am thankful.

At a lower altitude, there is much energy,
A recurring journey, a northward vision, and more coats.
And I am thankful.

I too am west of another and east of another.
I too am higher up and lower down than another.
And I am thankful.

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