I Know a Place
I don’t just want to see places,
I want to know them.
To walk down streets worn through
with the footsteps of my own ghost
and all those that came before me.
To find stories in every hidden corner
and around every tree or bush
that I have grown up alongside.
Don’t give me landmarks–
give me the mundane, like the
mom and pop shop with the best sandwiches,
tucked away where you wouldn’t find it
unless you were looking.
Give me the best spot to watch the sunset
and the time when the grocery store
is the least busy.
I want to become a map of a town.
Not just of its streets and buildings
and how to get from one place to the next,
but the keeper of its history,
the pages on which its stories are written
to be passed along
to all those who pass through.
People lock themselves up
and hide themselves away,
but places–
towns, and cities, and empty fields
wait for me with open arms,
ready to share their secrets
with anyone that wants to listen.
My ears are open,
and I will be their keeper.
2 thoughts on "I Know a Place"
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This reminds me of something I have been thinking of lately that is, that I should be taking pictures of the local businesses and buildings that may not be around in the future. I remember so many places like that that are gone now and I wish I had pictures of what my town looked like, 10, 20 or 30 years ago. Someday that will be ancient history.
I really enjoy the contrast between people who “lock themselves up” and places that “wait for you with open arms.” I had never thought about it like that, but you are absolutely right. People can choose to veil their secrets, but places are open, waiting for you to discover the hole-in-the-wall joints and idiosyncratic architecture that makes them special. Very well done!