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Description

    When you returned to the place

    where you started, stood again in the room

    wherein you’d become you, at its very window,



        the sill, at first, had been too high to see over,



    took in, from your present



        after long absence



    full height, the view you’d with the years worked up to,



        that rising perspective,

        its slow-changing angle,



    you knew it for the first time. Always before:

    blurred by self-reflection that view –

    though not ‘technically’ you – was you.



    And then you left.



    A different window with an indifferent view.

    It was ‘other’ from the start –



        its learned details.



    So you thought, returned after long absence

    to your native place, standing at your congenital window,

    seeing from the perspective of your different life.



        How strange is the self

        beheld as an other!

Description

    When you returned to the place

    where you started, stood again in the room

    wherein you’d become you, at its very window,



        the sill, at first, had been too high to see over,



    took in, from your present



        after long absence



    full height, the view you’d with the years worked up to,



        that rising perspective,

        its slow-changing angle,



    you knew it for the first time. Always before:

    blurred by self-reflection that view –

    though not ‘technically’ you – was you.



    And then you left.



    A different window with an indifferent view.

    It was ‘other’ from the start –



        its learned details.



    So you thought, returned after long absence

    to your native place, standing at your congenital window,

    seeing from the perspective of your different life.



        How strange is the self

        beheld as an other!