their lamps constantly flickering-
begging for someone
anyone
to stop by
and say hello
acknowledge their existance.
the houses are small and
squashed together,
but no one feels the discomfort
they each know their neighbors and beyond
they like it that way.
during the night
time slows
almost but never pauses
and the people come out
girls with their hair braided
careful works of their mothers,
boys with their hands tucked in their pockets
careful works of the universe,
everyone else with their voices
and they gather around not a fire
but rather the aftermath
the hot coals burn neon red and orange
and the people tell their stories
the universe intently watching them
allowing a hesitant silence in the world
during the day
they resume their lives as "normal" people
but they know their place in the stars
the universe reserved it for them
and every time without fail
whenever someone enters their home
they welcome them with open arms
and say,
"welcome home."
they teach the wayward traveller their ways
allow the wayward traveller to partake in the silence of the world
send the wayward traveller on their way with tearful goodbyes
and know the wayward traveller knows
should they have ever been wondering in the first place.
begging for someone
anyone
to stop by
and say hello
acknowledge their existance.
the houses are small and
squashed together,
but no one feels the discomfort
they each know their neighbors and beyond
they like it that way.
during the night
time slows
almost but never pauses
and the people come out
girls with their hair braided
careful works of their mothers,
boys with their hands tucked in their pockets
careful works of the universe,
everyone else with their voices
and they gather around not a fire
but rather the aftermath
the hot coals burn neon red and orange
and the people tell their stories
the universe intently watching them
allowing a hesitant silence in the world
during the day
they resume their lives as "normal" people
but they know their place in the stars
the universe reserved it for them
and every time without fail
whenever someone enters their home
they welcome them with open arms
and say,
"welcome home."
they teach the wayward traveller their ways
allow the wayward traveller to partake in the silence of the world
send the wayward traveller on their way with tearful goodbyes
and know the wayward traveller knows
should they have ever been wondering in the first place.
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eyesofIris
Aug 05, 2022
This poem reminds me of a myth! I love so many lines, especially: "time slows / almost but never pauses," "they gather around not a fire/ but rather the aftermath / the hot coals burn neon red and orange / and the people tell their stories / the universe intently watching them / allowing a hesitant silence in the world," "they know their place in the stars / the universe reserved it for them." Thank you for sharing :)