notes from a place reclaimed

what does it take to take things back, or to take them down a different path, or to leave them on the path they are on

to cover in moss what was a house built of stone, to gather soil for trees to grow in this inside outside, to form a canopy taller, more expansive than was its roof, to fill it with leaves and spiders’ webs, to make it feel like it’s they who belong here

to scatter the stories of lives lived here, or to take them elsewhere, or perhaps to let them sink in

to let birds sing in and through it all, whether anyone listens or not, to make space in the walls for nettles and bumblebees

and to make this a welcoming place, to invite an almost passer-by to stay awhile – to sit in a corner that might have been a window and is now a good place to lean on, and perhaps to write a poem

or almost a poem, in or about or for a strange time, a time slowed down, and perhaps

a time reclaimed

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