In Journey & In Exile
/Eugene Stevenson
We left, as they left,
our mothers’ bellies, theirs,
for a matter of breathing
chilled air with our lungs.
How clever we were
to put away our gill slits.
The way seemed so familiar,
the breach having been
turned about
out/into...
We left, as they left,
our fathers’ houses, theirs,
for a matter of
drinking wine by the bottle.
How clever we were
to put away our milk cups.
The way seemed so familiar,
the door having been
turned about
out/into...
中
the center.
Swept around & about
by the tide of seasons
& the flood of time.
Out/into... journey & exile.
Out/into... the night at jacob’s place
where our love’s
new body died, six
months before his birth
& our lips tasted of salt.
Out/into... the gate of heaven
where we buried, as they buried,
our loves’ ancient body, theirs,
& met again, breathing
& drinking our sameness
in the seasons & time,
in journey & in exile.
Author’s note: This poem's genesis was a meditation on a particular point in time at which the cycle of birth & death was intensely felt, overlaid by the journeys of parents & grandparents, along with a struggle to understand my own journey & feelings of not belonging, hence exile.
Eugene Stevenson is the son of immigrants, the father of expatriates, & lives in the mountains of western North Carolina. His chapbook, The Population of Dreams, is forthcoming from Finishing Line Press. His poems have appeared in After Hours Journal, Albany Poets, Angel City Review, Blue Lake Review, Chicago Tribune Magazine, DASH, Hudson Review, Loch Raven Review, The Poet, & South Florida Poetry Journal, among others.
