Don’t ask me where it is I am going
Tonight. Some things go best without knowing
Every detail. I am a small shell
Whispering the waves, wishing I could tell
You who I am. The surf song is calling
Me inexorably, its tide writing
My name on some distant shore. This gnawing
Sense of being “not-from-here” I know so well.
Don’t ask me
How, but it has always been there, lying
Nautilus-curled within my stumbling
Soul. I want to love this red land as well
As you do, but I cannot fall under its spell.
Someday I’ll say, but for now I’m begging,
Don’t ask me.
Penguin Poems 