Lost and Found
I’m not sure when it happened
when I stopped being her
and became me,
full of self-doubt and confusion.
Sometimes I felt her take my hand -
in amongst the trees
or through the sweat and trance of the dancefloor.
She spoke to me in tongues in my dreams
leaving a yearning and a map for buried treasure.
I wandered lifetimes,
worn out from seeking and dissolution.
If only I knew then what I know now,
that what is lost is always found.
Underfoot for so long,
now chanced upon again
in the smile of that familiar stranger
who forever beckons me home.
—Amanda Cooke