but suppose it’s not a river
suppose instead you are laying
down bricks one by one
and with each new brick
all the old ones stack up
behind you to form a wall
so you can see all the bricks
that got you here -
the city you chose
and the love you didn’t -
but you can never return
you can only gaze at the choices -
the ones you’re glad you made
and the ones you wish you hadn’t -
and sometimes it was not even your own
hand but that of another and it seems
unfair that such blocks must remain
that their permanence is not yours
to claim but if you stare here too long
you will never recognize the clearing
behind you and all the places still left
to travel so where will you go from
                                                                 here?