written by

Zerayn D.

We keep the memories,
though the seasons change,
though people move on
and colors shift.
The air has danced
with cloud and rain
a dozen times in painted hues.

I came to tell you:
I haven’t yet left
the place I said I would.
Still, I know
something must change.

I took the paintings down.
I’m leaving
this weary, worn abode.
The walls are falling,
nature reclaiming what they built.
Concrete crumbles,
pillars vanish into dust,
and each day,
the silence whispers more collapse.

Now I understand,
the equinox spoke, too.
The harvest is past.
It’s time
to gather what remains,
to clean the old stable,
to store what can be saved.

It is time to build,
but not here.
Time to draw new plans
on different paper.
To begin again,
but not from the very start.
Not everything is lost.

Then I prayed:
Exodus 33:13
“If Your presence will not go with me…”
I have nothing
to begin with.