Your childhood streets fall away behind the train car, glittering lakes of cool swims, late at night after the club closed, early on Sundays when parents weren't quite awake yet, long Julys when school breaks felt endless, you were born in the land of one hundred thousand lakes and they never left you, you are more water than land, more forest floor than mind. You forgot your to do list, forgot to follow your prescribed course while here, and somehow you got everything you came for. You sit on a train like moss, like generations of calm lie in your chest, it's all still there, you were never reduced to your current state, only ever expanded, you contain multitudes.
The small towns of your ancestors fly past outside the window, remind themselves to you, they whisper your name and pronounce it correctly, such is their power, such is their gift. You are a whole life of layer, a whole world full of treasures gathered, trinkets piled in the corners of your spine, you are a body made of spirit, a spirit made of woods and lakes and sunshine and moss, you are a lifetime of leaving and coming back.
This is the heart you were asked to own.
Who are you to turn away a heart
when it knocks on your door?
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