NO REASON WHY I SHOULDN’T LEAVE
No reason why I shouldn’t leave
is not as good as a reason to stay
but the first has its eye open
while the other is shut.
So when I find myself
at a fork in the road
I don’t go either way
but pick it up like a witching stick,
and go off in directions of my own
trembling all the way
like water in a stone.
It can be deeply restorative sometimes
to be alone and lost
as you walk through the front door
of your original homelessness,
remembering where you hid the key.
Your shadow stops following you like the north star
of the threshold you left behind,
unhinges itself like the pivot
of the prosthetic arm
of the disabled clock
you’ve been all these years
and walks beside you like a bridge
to anywhere you want to go.
You can feel what a star feels
when it looks down in envy
at the fireflies all over the map
wondering if their disobedience
to the higher forms of order
might not be the fulfillment
of an enlightened discipline
that radiates out of its own
spontaneous lucidity
free of meaning anything
to whatever it casts its light upon
than the sheer delight of shining.
PATRICK WHITE
