Places

Places are a part of you, they leave their imprint
As they burrow into your pores, piercing your second skin
Slowly at first, then, before you know it, you're a local
Affecting the manners and outlook, and reciting idées fixes

The fabric of nostalgia is connective tissue to time and place
That, even as your body faces the present, your soul lingers
Tracing invisible boundaries in sand, affirming kinship
Even at a distance, you can't suppress the great longing

Phantom organs whose purpose is revealed on later reflection
Their notional contribution is to supply a sense of balance
Their stamps of indelible ink are charged with memories
Such are the identity markers of modern travelers

You touch, tentatively, as if to revive that feeling of old
The sound of the streets you roamed, that playground you owned
Grasping to decipher the messages weighted with meaning
The lost stories are outlined faintly in the veins of belonging

Places, a playlist

I give you 120 or so neighborhoods of the mind, a musical journey around the world (spotify version)

This internal displacement is part of a series: In a covidious time.

File under: culture, observation, perception, nostalgia, memory, sensory, covidious, poetry, toli

Writing log: February 27, 2022