I have gone traveling sinuous rivers in solitude.
Am I still a traveler
who watches
who teaches
who learns?
I begin to remember
how I hid
how I mourned
how I laughed
how I loved
I feel down corridors for myself
and shake hands with someone I once discovered,
silently wondering
Am I now the person I have spent my whole life becoming?
Written on the way to a college reunion,
with thanks, for the final line, to
Mary Catherine Bateson's "Composing a Life"
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