I move in the area where ghosts reside when they are no longer counted as part of the living.
I wasn’t sent but somebody sent for me.
Because I come from a place that was a garden, but when I left it was abandoned.
Don’t mourn for it, don’t mourn for me.
Because when the sustenance stopped everyone should have known.
It is always better to find a place than to be displaced.
There was comfort there, I wanted to reach destiny.
So I counted the days that it could not rain until it outnumbered the seasons.
I saw a chance and seized the opportunity.
Because gardens are great but you can’t live outside forever.
And memories don’t build houses for me to live in.
The weather is never right and eventually all climate just becomes burdensome.
I moved in silence until only my actions could speak for themselves.
Now I feel like I belong, but I hope I won’t be long.
Because I looked up at the sky again, and it did not rain.
And the dryness in my throat says it’s about that time.