POEM: I do have this

Driving north on Granville Street

my back to the airport

I glimpse foggy mountains

then

a voice inside

intones, repeats:

“I could have this.”

 

I could have this:

my birthright

my right

my life

my right to a new

life.

 

Inside Banyen Books

nestled in a wicker chair

by the window

reading about moral courage

(between surreptitious nibbles

of my granola bar)

I notice the kneeling woman

shelving books beside me

is barefoot.

Her white cotton dress

shimmers in the late

afternoon light.

 

In the street outside

an old man is singing

Christmas carols.

Everyone’s checking the weather

on their smartphones:

a sunny week

summer’s finally here.

about time, they say.

 

I can have this:

snatched from death

pummelled by grief

released to love again.

 

I do have this,

which may explain

my heart softening,

my hand rising gently

to reassure it.