“Which of us is not forever a stranger and alone?” ~Thomas Wolfe
To get out of the land
is more painfully done than said.
A stranger in all the familiar places
will seek respite in foreign arms.
Lot’s wife was the lucky one,
frozen in time before realisation
set in. The destruction you flee
is your own heart imploding.
The peace you seek recedes
eternally into the distance.
Just this one time you thought
you might be understood,
might share a vision with
a deluded angel or sympathetic
demon, but in the end you
settle again into a seat for one.