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When This Began
Boarding a plane or a train or a bus
And suddenly my travels
And my severe anxiety
And my shaking limbs
Are the least of my worries.
I can’t breathe.
I’m shaking, and it’s visible.
He helped me find my jacket,
A cotton cloth of little importance,
But so important to him.
And now it means something to me.
The bumps of my suitcase on a tile floor
As I pass by his door one last time.
He smiles sadly, and I whisper the words
“I’ll miss you.”
But no one can know.
The windows are spotted with rain,
But I can still make out a face.
A hand, waving out in the cold air
As I continue to shiver and shake
And crave to be back in the calm.
I’m cold.
I’m cold,
And I want to feel home.
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