32/365: We All Go

night flight

Isolation
is the well in which one swims
when one has gone early,
shrugged off the body and flown,
willingly decamped for higher ground.

We all go.
We will all be gone from here.
We are a temporary location;
these bodies are not ours
any more than this air is ours
or the colours on that rock.
The sky is not ours.
None of this is ours.
We float through,
anchored by the flesh
and hope.

But we all go,
and, having once left,
I have already gone.


I am writing one poem every day in 2016, and I am using the hashtag #365poems to document my progress.