A Poem I Wrote At Cape Coast...

RETURN

I thought I saw my mother,
my own face passed me on the street.
I turned to follow,
retracing the unpaved alley of red clay
between the houses and clothes lines,
children playing in the scrub grass
each step littered with broken things
bottles, shells, and forgotten letters
I followed her
to the river's fork
waded into the muddy water
that didn't wash me clean
of this wondering what if...
of this who I could have been
would have been,
if the butterfly had stood still.
But even the tiniest of breezes,
the soft whisper of money
from hand to hand,
are the bricks and mortar of
my irrevocable present.

Still, I thought I saw my father
so I followed him
down the narrow blade of sea,
past the boats and village
through the buying and selling
the selling and buying
chaotic chatter of the market,
to the fresh painted white walls
the backdrop of my nightmares and waking dreams.

I know this place.
I've been here before.
The fortress walls
are only seashells
housing the echos of infinite sorrow
coated in the resin of salty tears,
blood,
life fluids,
stolen.

I thought I saw my mother,
my father,
my cousin,
my brother,
my lover,
my friend...
I thought I saw my sister,
but then I remember,
I am an only child,
a lonely child
sailing on the one way arrow
of linear time
where there are some places
you can travel back to,
but you can never
really
return.