“The hearts metanoia on the other hand, turns without regret, turns not so much away as towards” – Scott Cairns

When I was two years old my parents bought a red brick building

I will return even after I have left
to finish emptying out the enduring things
Shelves hold the dust of grade six, seven, twelve, all of university,
my early work years and my first return to gain strength,
and my swift return in lockdown,
“I can’t seem to escape this place!”

I will return even after I have left
Helping with boxes of books, glass, history
Until we stand in the emptiness and the glowing floors
Piles of dust and detritus
Keys never identified for all the French doors
someone will have a broom and miss the moment
The end of endless returning

I will return even after I have left,
I know what hurts here, at least
Turn you can never come home again
Into this place is no longer home
Yield to what I cannot know
Turn towards three months in the east 

Go

When I was thirty they sold it.