Diaspora

September 7th, 2018

The only thing to do
When you find a ripe puffball mushroom
Is to squeeze it.
Spores by the billions come in a pouring smoke. Watch your nose.

So when I see the smoke flowing through these streets thick like a puffball’s explosion
And I hear the words spoken for months previous come to the dim light of day
And I try to keep from crying for the land I have loved so long
As all these memories of mine and those whom I love disappear in puffs
I thank God for the mercy of these spores.
Billions of memories airborne, Leaving with us,
Drifting apart and in an unseen future
They will settle into new earth miles from here
And grow into the netting necessary to make new memories.

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