To Feel Again

I ride familiar back roads to fill holes in my life,

to plug fissures where memories seep out

like the hiss of air from a punctured tire.

I travel to places not touched for a while,

meander to answer persistent calls

impossible to ignore.

I traipse the riverbank where our cabin rose up

in arson’s flames, re-visit the stream where

our young spaniels raced on rocky shores,

and journey to the north country barn where

a poet’s words and beloved mountain peaks,

like old friends, salve the ache of loss.

I go to where the push-pull of joy and pain live,

where memory both soothes and gnaws, return

to feel again the rush of air against the heart.

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