the hut

We must leave the hut at some stage,

leave its welcoming sound as the rain falls,

the tree’s limbs brushing like memories

and the rattling of the front door, leave them all

at some stage - or if not; if we stay,

grow old and succumb - breath falling away in leaves

as brittle as time’s footprints - even then

we must leave or if not stay

while those who come after us, retch and turn away,

close the door and wander far into the reaches

we feared to search and then we stay and yet move

ever further away from whatever held us.

So it is that we must leave the hut at some stage,

head out into the emptiness of unknowing

and unfamiliar and journey towards a future

as distant from that hut as time and death can take us.