I am not yet late and
I know the way. It is this way, down
this road, no
this one with the big stone house. So
many stone houses, no
lights in the dark and this rain, heavy
and incessant like the
journey a test, a rite of passage, do
I belong here? Did
I not pass this house just now? So
many roads for such a small island and no
way of knowing if I have taken the right turn. Only
time will tell and
it always does.