the question, always the same,
and the answer is that there are
so many blessed nowheres
she says she’ll have to find me
when I finally get that car,
when I finally succumb to go
she knows that I can write about birds
for only so long before I myself fly –
after so many years feeling
stuck and prayerless
the answer isn’t to find me
or to seek anything anywhere –
but if you begin to look for me,
try roundabouts nowhere
© Sarah Whiteley
ebbtide 