‘I cannot resolve why it is that men go and women stay’.
Of late, I have romanticised the days where a man leaving meant he hunted- tended with the time needed, to those parts of himself only satisfied by wilderness and the kill.
When women stayed to tend to their communities, to feed, nourish and converse.
I do this because, nowadays one cannot truly leave nor truly forget.
If I wanted to find or be found, I can access any number of platforms like Google, Instagram, Facebook, text or email.
And if I wanted to force forgetting there is Internet porn, tinder, grinder, …’unfollow’, swipe left and delete.
I long to be properly missed and to equally go missing; as much as I long to miss my men in a way that the only images retained are the ones we made. Images that I invite back or that come to haunt me when I am open enough to our poetry.
But I am not standing on a shore line under parasol waiting for a sailor to return. I am not boot-footed in the dust kissing my cowboy before he rides off to chase cattle across the plains. And I am not a daughter with as many friends who share the experience and understanding that – fathers go to work for long periods of time.
I am a millennial sitting at a desk in a new home… And I have turned my phone and my computer off so I cannot see where they are going without me.