After a decade and a half you return home
like a ghost to its haunt:
The son of once upon a time on his land of long ago.
Like a trespassing guest, you, homesick ghost,
tread the path with circumspect steps.
Behind every face you see another from the past.
In every voice you hear, you hear another very distant.
Among the people you meet, you meet an absent you.
Behind every life you feel a death;
every presence an absence.
As you walk on the land of now,
your feet feeling your land of long ago,
the light of a smile shows up on your lips:
you are walking in the abode of absence;
an absence once very present:
now not real but surreal
As a ghost you can haunt only the ghost land.