Jean Nordhaus: "I Was Always Leaving"

I was always leaving, I was
about to get up and go, I was
on my way, not sure where.
Somewhere else. Not here.
Nothing here was good enough.

It would be better there, where I
was going. Not sure how or why.
The dome I cowered under
would be raised, and I would be released
into my true life. I would meet there

the ones I was destined to meet.
They would make an opening for me
among the flutes and boulders,
and I would be taken up. That this
might be a form of death

did not occur to me. I only know
that something held me back,
a doubt, a debt, a face I could not
leave behind. When the door
fell open, I did not go through.

"I Was Always Leaving" by Jean Nordhaus. Text as published in Memos from the Broken World (forthcoming from Mayapple Press, January, 2016). Reprinted by permission of the poet.

Art credit: Untitled image of light escaping "Through the Door," a series by Aisling Jennings Photography.

Poet photograph credit: Phil Cantor (digitally altered by curator).