by Jolyn Low

These streets are no longer familiar to my brain, 
let alone the lack of trees shielding me from their gaze.
Bus routes and train tracks so well-acquainted but 
I double check them just in case.

The heaviness of the air weighs me down with every breath I take -
and I struggle to break free from the shell that I once was in this 
place, city, or perhaps I can call it home but it is not the same.
I remain incarcerated by my memories,
a reminder of a different time and place. 

If I could accept this as my reality perhaps 
I would allow myself the disillusion that this is my forever place.
But no, this city is temporary and I know
that at least for now I long for a greater, vast space.