Upon Leaving This Place

when i leave here, i leave without regret, i do not come from here and i have
nothing in mind that suggests that this is the place i am meant to be,
you know that, and so i go, and when i go, i wed possibilities
which are never in my mind, i alliterate, i swallow my pride, i have fluent lungs,
i listen, i move fast, i slow down, i exhale air, and take back land, i belong
to the untied, maybe always less, but i am prepared,
i fall on quicksands, and i am still.

i may come later. No one saves me anyhow.
except my own
self.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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