I remember in highways

what is love

but remembrance

and I remember in highways…

 

in moments on lines,

like beads moving on thread,

strung to make pictures from pixels of glass.

 

I remember in fragments of myself,

in pointillist pops of colour against light –

stained glass memories of sun on shuddering leaves

in hot, August winds

who had forgotten how to weep

until September arrived.

 

these longings

these recollections of highways,

like sutures,

binding pieces of me

to all those open flaps of wonderings,

wanderings,

of wanting –

anchor me to the spaces between re-membering

and

longing to completely forget.

 

when I land “there” –

in these moments of recognising myself

against the backdrop of forgetting why I wanted to know me –

I pretend to ignore the pain in my ankles,

from the impact of the landing,

I feel only gratitude for the journey…

 

ok,

maybe a little loneliness, too,

for the pieces of me I had to leave when I arrived.

 

that’s always the bargain

when we remember in highways:

the place never leaves without you.

 

r.l. elke