Settler (Poem)

A traveler,

bookcases of memory,

oozing the aromas of Japanese plum wine,

the cafes of Mons,

the night markets of Marrakesh.

In recent days, this traveler, hands full of poems,

so often pushed by the wind, is settling into

the greatest comfort, the same view, the same reflections in the window's glass.

Settling into familiar rooms, your deep voice. like a soulful, merciful remembering.

For you were never a discovery.

You are home.

A place these bones would always find rest.

I have known your face for eons.

I would know you in the dark.

You are my lover, the homestead my soul recognizes.

I was always going to settle

here

with you.