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I walk through towns that have forgotten me. Sidewalks broken and twisted, windows cracked, doors closed, footsteps echoing into empty neon-lit alleys. It smells of loneliness, tastes sharp"like hot wind scraping a dry throat.
Rivers ran bronze in dawn’s early light, carrying years I’d almost forgotten, and monsters lurking deep. Wind shifted the prairie grass and my thoughts, fallen signs I had missed, lost, ignored.
I slept beneath stars with no names, in fields of desolation, counting nights with only the moon and trees as witnesses.
I listened to the oaks and pines tell stories, as if they were talking to children.
A vagabond in exile, in the lonely decades of travel, I wondered if it was more than I could bear, nights talking to shadows.
The sun dripped" base and debauched.
Booze and regret, miles stretched beneath my worn-out penny loafers.
Then, like an oasis in the desert, Nod appeared dimly on the horizon, rose quietly from the far-off vapor.
The air there held something familiar. Not the streets, not the buildings, not the walls, but the patience of a place that waits, already knowing me before I arrived.
There were other sojourners, vagabonds, humans looking for a fresh start, another chance at life.
I stepped inside the city gates without knocking or announcing myself. I knew I belonged.
Hands empty, heart full, hope sitting on a table like a sparrow eating a crust of bread.
The world outside blurred into a nebulous fog, and the silence was beautiful.
As I recall, Nod was the place to which Cain was banished for killing Abel. While the speaker here does not seem to be guilty of a heinous crime, he certainly does have a somber past, much of which he has forgotten or would like to forget. As the poem ends on a note of hope, I would guess new starts is the theme of this one. It's something many would like to achieve, but not all do so.
A nod in the right direction is far more satisfying from a universal point of view with the exception of in Bulgaria (sorry I couldn't resist that altho' it is quite likely no one will get it) .. than the wink of an eye ..
Anyway, I digress .. the land of nod is always welcome in my book .. hope I haven't sent you to sleep ..
Thomas - you have me running for my Oxford English Dictionary for yr usage of the word 'Nod' - but it is not a usage we have in the UK it seems.
Notwithstanding, this Piece is well up to yr usual standard, showing us aspects of life in the States that Hollywood pretends do not exist. Really Excellent ✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️
Thomas W. Case was born in Oxnard. He has published 3 volumes of poetry. The Bullfrog Dreams of Flying, Artichokes, Avocados, and Van Gogh, and Seedy Town Blues. He has won several poetry contests. Hi.. more..