The Prodigal Daughter Searches for Her Home I am repulsed by the city: the noise, the filth the way you can see it from space. Yet it is as natural as a bird’s nest or a prairie dog town as natural as I am. For if it is not natural then I, born of the species who made it, am nothing but an alien on the world of my birth. In order to reconcile myself to me I placed my hand on a large building with its steel, concrete and glass upon glass that doesn’t open. I tried to feel as I have felt when I have placed my hand on a tree and felt that it was part of me part of the world. Its right to exist not open to question. I failed my test. I cannot feel the life in this building. I cannot feel the buzzing of its electrons connecting with the palm I have placed upon it. I have run, hidden, stayed away from the city for years. But it is part me as much as anything else is. If I cannot own this part of me how much of myself will I have lost? How can I be part of this world if I don’t own this building? Or must I forever be an exile in my own body?
About the Author: Sally Dunn’s poetry has appeared in Schuylkill Valley Journal, North Dakota Quarterly, Plainsongs and Glass Mountain among others. Her poetry won third place in the Joe Gouveia Outermost Poetry Contest. She lives on Cape Cod.
Image Credit: Paul Klee “Cold City” (1921) Public Domain