I kept the radio on a sports talk station

because I did not want to hear

the conversations the drive was ready

to give if I gave silence and the way

home a chance to collaborate.

I couldn’t take that collective voice

of longing and desire

whose purpose was to turn the car around

and drive back as if I could enter the past

by a different route without reading a sign

that read, Road Closed. That is the seduction

of the past – to find a road back.

I’ve driven enough to know that the unknown

is the only road with certainty, the one

“that goes on forever” revealing hidden beauty

and treasure and love. Still, I kept

the station on until I was out of range

and had to face my dreams and memories.

The hum of the tires like a powerful incantation

keeping me from turning back.

Hootism: Sometimes the art of letting go is doing so by not holding what
can’t be held before its time.