"refers to a person who has 'migrated out,' but often carries a connotation of politico-social self-exile." [Wikipedia]
I wrote this word on my window last month (minus one accent aigu, oops). My metaphor. A reminder that I am on the move and things behind must be left behind. When they pull back at me, I draw a line and call them my old country. Incuding: a scant sort of language, a way of life (existing?), a few concrete objects and maybe one or two people. Whatever must be gone from my life, I say of these to myself: Already gone.
I learn like an emigrant, one who leaves, and someday like an immigrant, one who arrives. Now is the forward, the new air and its miles before my face. The in-between, where I am anchored only to my feet and my breath. Walking—expectancy—and the waking.
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ReplyDeletemy Chicago girl - my metaphor. for courage and continued progress in the areas of my life where I need it.
ReplyDeleteJust making sure you're coming back.
ReplyDeleteoh yes. yes, I am.
ReplyDeleteI like that thought. Thanks for sharing.
ReplyDeletelovely <3
ReplyDeleteHeidi - and thanks for reading.
ReplyDeleteOdessa - thanks, Miss Green Card. <3
this post could've been written just for me.
ReplyDeleteI love reading your words.
Erin - then we can say I did write it for you. that'd be all right with me.
ReplyDelete