The third in a series of poems, some old, some new, exploring belonging and rootlessness.

Fibers

On those quiet mornings,

The day warms, but cold corners remain.

The sun on my shoulders, but an ache deeper inside.

.

All those people I miss,

Images of faces, family,

Friends, old and new,

I would travel far to meet.

.

Where is the center, what intertwines the strands?

Who weaves the tapestry so coarse-grained?

How do I bring the threads together?

Johannesburg, 2023