This familiar place, I have
visited time and again –
cobwebs hang at the exact same spot
and the grease from cooking
last time is still sticking around.
the haunted corners have the
same ghosts – guilt, shame and pity.
the air is still damp from the
tears of yesterday, but
there is a sweet smell –
of cinnamon bread I baked for
myself, the last time I was here –
I had a feeling I would return
and be hungry.
I always do return.
This familiar place is dark as always –
but though darkness can get darker no more,
my light is brighter each time I return.
One of these days, I will bring enough light to see
what this place looks like
and this place will be
familiar no more.
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