Walking back through my life
I can now begin to see when and where
things changed, where I changed, where
the place I thought of as my home
became alien, altered, as though
the weathering of time wore away
what I now know were carefully applied
veneers, real enough seeming to me
and to others who stopped to visit.
And when the music changed one day
I was the one with no real partner
sitting along the wall on a folding chair
imagining myself still on the familial dancefloor,
but knowing my place was gone
and I had become more acquaintance
than family, moved out of the core,
invited back when something was needed
with cards and wishes on holidays.
But that home has crumbled to rubble
and I know my leaving saved me
from having to pick up the pieces
of what could never be reassembled.