I. <br /> <br />Mother bore me in a freefall <br />in a firmament without a sun, <br />suckled and weaned me somehow, <br /> <br />and I flew, arms outstretched, <br />through the unrelieved inky-blue, <br />no ground to stand on. <br /> <br />Much later <br />I looked down again, <br />discovered lights, <br />flew down to take a look. <br /> <br />There were cities, <br />there were homes, <br />but none of them <br />would have me. <br /> <br />II. <br /> <br />You came, <br />and a solid world <br />rose up to meet my feet. <br /> <br />You took me <br />to one of those lighted houses, <br />but I found the light <br />was not my light. <br /> <br />I tried to do <br />what people do <br />in homes, <br /> <br />but kept going <br />to the window <br />with an impulse <br />to stretch out my arms. <br /> <br />Finding my memories <br />of the night ocean <br />too, too, lonely <br /> I resisted <br /> <br />but all I could do <br />was wait and pray <br />and walk out the door <br />every morning, <br />the way people do. <br /> <br />Lately, though, <br />some mystery's <br />been at work. <br /> <br />I find myself coming <br />back to you at night <br />like a man <br />with a real address.<br /><br />Max Reif<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/autobiography-in-two-acts/
