Lost and found

 by an exact spot in the sky,
I witness a shift of light,
breaking where no sun shines

Why am I traveling
where really there is no road
the forest road was shut many moons ago

in gangrene hues, over a pyramid
in the desert, life is distilled;
I fear water

It’s so easy to get lost and disappear,
into the  nothingness of despair
I feel relief at the abandonment

where the wind and dust travel easily along my skin,
leaving trails of of the journey thus far
I am ready for something called home.

Written for dVerse. Today’s host Laura says: Select ONE of the above ‘lost poems’ (or one of your own finding where something or someone is lost ) and re-write is as a ‘Found poem’. It does not have to be as rigid as an erasure poem for you can add in some of your own words or even reorder it.

I have used the following poem. The phrases/lines used by me are in bold.

(Lost By Way of Tchin-Tabarden by Susan Rich

Republic of Niger

Nomads are said to know their way by an exact spot in the sky,

the touch of sand to their fingers, granules on the tongue.

But sometimes a system breaks down. I witness a shift of light,

study the irregular shadings of dunes. Why am I traveling

this road to Zinder, where really there is no road? No service station

at this check point, just one commercant hawking Fanta

in gangrene hues. C’est formidable! he gestures — staring ahead

over a pyramid of foreign orange juice.

In the desert life is distilled to an angle of wind, camel droppings,

salted food. How long has this man been here, how long

can I stay contemplating a route home?

It’s so easy to get lost and disappear, die of thirst and longing

as the Sultan’s three wives did last year. Found in their Mercedes,

the chauffeur at the wheel, how did they fail to return home

to Ágadez, retrace a landscape they’d always believed?

No cross-streets, no broken yellow lines; I feel relief at the abandonment

of my own geography. I know there’s no surveyor but want to imagine

the aerial map that will send me above flame trees, snaking

through knots of basalt. I’ll mark the exact site for a lean-to

where the wind and dust travel easily along my skin,

and I’m no longer satiated by the scent of gasoline. I’ll arrive there

out of balance, untaught; ready for something called home.)

65 thoughts on “Lost and found

  1. from all this I took away the word ‘home’ – home is different things to different people. For some, it is a person. For others, it is a place, a bed, a room, a book, a beverage, a specific flavor, a comforting and familiar touch!
    And for some (weird spirits like me), home is being alone!

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.