The Return

The weathered building still stood,
its lemon-yellow facade
now only a faded patchwork
of condemned signs
and boarded up windows.

It was the first time
I had ventured back there
since losing you.
Steeling my heart
with a deep breath,
I opened the door
and walked inside.

The rickity stairs were higher
than I remembered.
Now, years later,
the trip up
was almost as difficult
as the trip back
in time.

In broken ruins thick with dust,
thicker still with memories,
past and present collide
and pain and sorrow
pass in tears of liberation.

It was right to return.
Some days are diamonds,
some days are dust,
and some days

can never be
anything but both.

by C.J. Heck

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