Welcoming The New Ones
You packed what you could, all you could carry.
What you left behind is gone.
Exodus, an ebbing—
cry if you want, but keep moving.
It’s gone for good.

Our names are written in the ground,
in the sky, visible from any point.
What you know, you can’t unknow.

The young people circle you, eager
to help, to steady, to guide.
The old people surround you,
extend their hands to touch,
cover, you feel wafer-thin, porous
as you transmit where you’ve been,
what you’ve done, what you’ve lost.
You’re done now. You can relax,
settle in, find a spot. You’re
going to be here a while.

​©Jeff Fiorito 2014