Editor’s Note: Introspective Ramblings is Amherst Wire’s poetry column, dedicated to showcasing student’s creative work through a mixture of audio and visual components.
Do you think it’s a coincidence that you’re going back to your roots?
Yes, the same way it is a coincidence how hands feel the weight of long-worn rings, even when they are empty.
The same way it is a coincidence how our lives become unhinged in tandem, plummeting with parachute cords entangled.
How poppies grow over the trench skeletons of battlefields.
How every night the moon is bright enough for us to walk unafraid and the stars never sleep until we do.
How every train journey is guarded by lavender fields, swaying in the breeze that sings with every inhale:
this is safety.
It is not a coincidence that the ocean will guide everything that ventures into it back to shore.
It is not a coincidence how the chapel held its silence for our prayer, and
echoed back the question my grandfather asked, knowing
I held the answer before I had even held you.
Email Celina at [email protected] or follow her on Twitter @CRivernider