Why I write

long after I know no one else comes to visit, but me
it is because
when I revisit the things I once wrote
that old familiar yet strange me
still stirs fresh emotions
and because
I know
it still means something to me
after that time, the distance
that is why I write
not for anyone else to read, or to impress,
but to reconnect with an old feeling, a place, a fleeting
fancy
It is a testament to the things I've once seen, heard, and thought
no longer

That is why I write
to get at that space
that time and forgetfulness quite easily replace

I write because I once was, and is still here

Yes, our existence, like so many footprints in the sand
why does it matter what where how why

But because I wrote. It is a consolation: that what where how why
mystery that we are
doesn't mean a thing
but that I wrote I was there
that is a fact too
just as I was here, is here, and may not be there
was born, am living, will die
I wrote.

That is a fact too.