Finding Origin

A Poem by Alfred Kukitz

Can we swim to the waters of our infancy?

He was called but never answered the phone. He was phoned but never answered the call. Somewhere between the silence and the ring he got lost. Here he sat, unencumbered, missing a breath here and there, smelling aromas that didn't exist. When his fiftieth birthday arrived he stayed. After sixteen minutes in the eternal chair he stood and jumped into the waters of his birth. Among the wetness, the warmth and the infant fluids he swam to the shores of his origin.