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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