Not Where I Was, Not Where I’m Going

Not Where I Was, Not Where I’m Going

I stopped counting the streets behind me

but my feet kept moving, steady and slow

the shop windows were shadows,

the pavement carried no answers

only the rhythm of heel after toe

I was not where I started

not where I hoped to arrive

caught in the middle,

my hands empty, my breath full

and silence pressing close like a question

A man with a paper bag passed by

his face unreadable, his pace hurried

while I lingered,

as though every crack in the pavement

was waiting for my attention

as though pausing could rewrite the distance

The air was neither warm nor cold

the sky not bright, not dark

everything suspended,

like the moment before a word is spoken

when you almost know what you mean

but not enough to say it aloud

Somewhere a bus pulled away

somewhere a door clicked shut

I didn’t look back,

I didn’t look ahead

just walked,

half in memory,

half in tomorrow,

nowhere belonging,

but still moving on

And maybe that’s all I am

a step between places

a thought unfinished,

a sentence that forgets its ending

yet carries on

because walking is the only answer I have