In which I subject my readers to yet more bad poetry
On Leaving Oxford
The stark reality begins to dawn
That soon, all too soon, we will all be gone.
I don’t mean our short time upon the earth –
That brief hiatus between death and birth –
Such is the stuff of a loftier poem;
I mean the time left before going home
I thought that six months would take long to pass,
But days are short when you want them to last.
It seemed I had forever to explore—
Forever isn’t so long anymore.
How can I choose one home o’er another?
Forsake one friend for the other?
I cannot leave and not leave myself behind:
Two Oceans own my heart, my soul, my mind.
If I could, I’d stand straddling the Sea,
Yet I fear the distance’s too great for me.
And so I lie, arms spread out, stretched too thin,
As if I could hold the whole world within.
Then, impatient, my heart begins to pull—
Must I live in two halves and never be whole?
Oh why is my heart so easily cleaved?
Why can it not so easily take leave?
Why must I go when I wish I could stay?
Why did I come to go back the same way?
Yet knowing not what the future may bring,
Still I know that I’ll not regret a thing.
When my time here has been all but forgot,
I’ll still have the mem’ries that Time has wrought.
Though I may never belong to one Place,
Though I can’t hold two Worlds in one embrace,
I know in my heart two Places can meet –
And in that Meeting, I am whole and complete.
N.B. I leave on June 15th