Places You Have No Reason to Be
The light that cuts through the windows is foreign,
an intensity and color not known in the northern places where you live
So too is the space from a different world, a different time. strange
and yet. as your blood races, strangely familiar, as if
this is where your soul was born, in this renaissance place
so far from the land you were raised.
This is the story of your life, finding yourself in places
you have no reason to be, and being, somehow, home.
About this poem
I am a creature of habits and routine and process. Now and again, however, I have lept into strange worlds, and found myself.
I have no idea how that works.
PS – The picture was taken in Rome.