The passport photo
scowled back
refusing to believe
that it was me.
It was happy to be me
back then when
nothing had gone
wrong
And the future that
awaited it
hadn’t yet
occurred.
I wasn’t myself
no more
or at least
not the self-same self
that the passport
swore
was
none other
than
me.
The eyes had gotten colder.
The mind has lost its colour.
Could only think
in B & W
My heart had nothing
to declare.
My soul
had crossed the border
And I was in the middle of
Nowhere
…yet again.
Dónall Dempsey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/crossing-the-border-for-scarlett/
