Where I Stand

When did you know you were lost, he asked.

When? When I stood on the rocks watching

the Irish sea explode over my feet I felt

free, not lost. You say “lost” like I fled this country

out of boredom, out of thirst and yes,

parched of excitement — my head

filled only with the embarrassing mistakes of young adulthood,

my final thesis, and the first blush of foreign travel.

As I stood at the end of that alley, my feet unbalanced on

the cobble stone, listening to the tour guide dramatically

retell the story of Jack the Ripper, I knew

my shoes where not my own.

When did I know I was lost? Only after I had returned my feet to

the California sand, but

I found my shoes in the roots of my younger self and my feet in

the strongholds of the macabre — my life in the crevices of simple things.


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15 thoughts on “Where I Stand

  1. I love the visuals in this, and “parched of excitement” may be my favorite line. I also really like the repetition of “lost” that pulls us through the different moods and phases.

  2. Simply gorgeous, S.J. Favorite part:

    As I stood at the end of that alley, my feet unbalanced on

    the cobble stone, listening to the tour guide dramatically

    retell the story of Jack the Ripper, I knew

    my shoes where not my own.

    “I knew my shoes were not my own” says chapters about the narrator. Love it.

  3. Nice! I feel like the sense of place in this one is misty, as if the protagonist was standing still, but the world was shifting around him/her with incredible speed.

  4. I especially like the line about “the strongholds of the macabre”; it’s an interesting juxtaposition since a stronghold is normally a place of safety while the macabre, well, it isn’t 🙂

      1. Well, that’s fine then – everyone needs to find a place where they feel at home and the macabre is as good a place as any 😉

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