Three Hundred Years Displaced

It’s all coming back to me:

the bark-brown hut in the forest,

the fairy within, the promenade in the night,

the heaven-blue scarves of perfume shimmering

through the air as we navigate the narrow streets.

It’s always been there

in the blood, in the veins of leaves

that dry and fossilize,

and who are we: reborn

like me, like the blood

compels the paths where

I, we,

rise and fall

again.