I feel myself getting distracted more and more these days. Like I’m never really there. For example, today: I suppose I started out by sitting at my desk as usual, intent on getting back to work. Hours passed. Afternoon, and I am in the same place but felt like asking, what happened? Where have I been? Why is nothing done? I look at my hands but I don’t really see them. I look at myself in the mirror and felt the edges blurring.
I am leaving again. It seems I am always leaving. This time last year the thought of you kept me moored. I keep leaving and I never really knew if you would follow but you always seem to find me and bring me back. Now I am alone, and I am not sure if my letters are finding their way to you, if they make you feel loved. Sometimes I can’t even remember your face.
I feel myself getting distracted more and more these days. I need to finish things. Maybe make an anchor for myself so I don’t stray too far if I can’t help but leave. Moving without leaving. Leaving without moving. Those were my first lover’s favourite words.
Why Birds Fly
Simeon Dumdum, Jr.
Because birds will show only
that you’re not looking at
And you won’t close
Because you want
a feather in your cap
From Third World Opera by Simeon Dumdum, Jr., published by New Day Publishers, 1987.