Unbidden (Poetry)
25th July 2021
I turn the corner, feel again the tug
as though my feet had homing instincts strong
as magnetism where the street sign looms
so it’s an effort every time to walk on by
Perhaps I am compelled as swallows are
according to the season’s shifting light
some memory inside begins to burn
and that impulse has me wrong-footed — lost in time
I do not live there now — and nor do they
That house is full of strangers. Neighbours, too
all dead. The street is changed ... the world’s moved on
I have no reason now to go that well-trod way
All this I know. And yet I’m torn in half
even though for years I’ve lived in a nearby road
not far enough away it seems, for of late
when I turn that corner some old need revives
and all those feelings, unbidden, come awake
as though my feet had homing instincts strong
as magnetism where the street sign looms
so it’s an effort every time to walk on by
Perhaps I am compelled as swallows are
according to the season’s shifting light
some memory inside begins to burn
and that impulse has me wrong-footed — lost in time
I do not live there now — and nor do they
That house is full of strangers. Neighbours, too
all dead. The street is changed ... the world’s moved on
I have no reason now to go that well-trod way
All this I know. And yet I’m torn in half
even though for years I’ve lived in a nearby road
not far enough away it seems, for of late
when I turn that corner some old need revives
and all those feelings, unbidden, come awake