Crossing arbitrary lines
B. Anne Adriaens
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When I came upon the edge of the forest, I pushed on, guarded by beech and hazel, drunk on the scent of their leaves. You told me I would tire of this mindscape, but I could not—would not—go back. It was as though I’d found a place I’d once lost.
When I came upon the edge of the fatherland, I stepped over its south-eastern border and dipped my toes in another city. You told me to visit often, but I could not—would not—take pleasure in these duties. Away from you, it was as though I’d found the space to grow. When I came upon the edge of the water, I took a one-way ticket to a waterlogged land. You told me I would return, but I could not—would not—stop my feet from growing roots, tapping into an adoptive language. It was as though I’d found my home in this world. |
B. Anne Adriaens is a Belgian national currently living in Somerset. Her poetry and fiction reflect her interest in alienation, as well as her concerns about the environment. Her work has appeared in various magazines, including Poetry Ireland Review, Ink Sweat and Tears and Poetry Salzburg Review (forthcoming).
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