To Be Called Home

Knowing Past

Captured in the written word or photographs or VHS tapes or stories told to us by those who were there since before, we recollect what once was before we came here. We know our way around that lake, or those woods, or that mountain, or those parks, or at least, we did then. Some of us were aware of what was not ours. Some of us did not need to be reminded of the difference between the walls and the borders that told us to stop. Some of us were affirmed in it. Some of us wallowed in it. When we look to the past, it can be hard to tell the difference between those among us, though sometimes it is remarkably clear. We realize we are missing so much that would make this all clearer. We can't do a retake on a film strip to make the gaps between each frame flutter away.

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