Exile, Self-Imposed I rued the journey Fearing what I dared to find At the outposts Where I set up camp The earth accepted my disquiet, The skies closed in The way I’d felt your hair upon my face, And every freely taken step Grew heavy As I fixed my wayward lights Upon the rapier truth: That knowledge would be left to rot Unless it led to power All the more I yearned For orchard fruit and the Embrace of harvests fled, Which both of us mistook for Slavery ________________________________________________________________________ Emanuel E. García, A Deeper Symmetry, 2014 |